Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to wifey,
Happy Birthday to you.

Yay, 21 again...

Happy birthday wifey xxx

Whilst I was tucking into a rather large roast dinner tonight, Louise Rednapp illustrated the dangers of becoming a size zero by becoming one herself. And therefore proving all the reasons why it's not a good thing. The headaches, emotional rollercoasters, loss of boobs and bum, unable to play with her son, work or even sleep properly.

Just to look like this:

Banana's right. Am now off to eat some cake. Chocolate cake. With 32 candles on the top.

Happy Birthday to curvacious me. Boobs and all.

Auntie - Sim, you're looking good. You've lost weight!

Sim - Thank you very much

Auntie - I can even make out your waist now

Sim - There's a compliment in there somewhere. I'll just keep digging for it, shall I??

Custard, the cat allergic to mice but still insisting on catching them fell very ill late last week, with bad fur, dull eyes and the inability to keep any food down. This resulted in sleepless nights and several trips to the animal hospital and our local clinic. And a rather unhelpful vet.

Vet - Throwing up you say?
Sim - Yes - She hasn't kept food down for the last two days.
Vet - Maybe worms?
Sim - I dewormed her two weeks ago.
Vet - Hmmm - maybe it's the food?
Sim - Whiskas? She's been eating that all her life.
Vet - Probably hairballs then.
Sim - Here's a sample. Still warm. And no - there's no hair.

You would think that kind of attention to detail would be appreciated. But nay. She wasn't impressed.
Especially when Custard did her business over her whilst she tried to take her temperature.

Needless to say, Custard felt much better after that...

in the numerous attempts to open a bottle of wine with plastic cork
....without a corkscrew.

1. Try the old tried and tested pushing the cork into the bottle with makle thumb. Make a grown man cry.
2. Attempt the sharp knife routine - end up slicing a tiny amount of plastic out of the cork but still no nectar joy.
Host delves into cardboard boxes and drawers to find the elusive opening implement.
3. Use the drill bit blunt endy bit and a claw hammer to try and pop the cork into the bottle, Fail again.
4. Hosts tries to smash open the top of the bottle with a hammer, saying you could sieve out the glass. Guests restrain him.
5. In the age old style of Bernard of Black Books, place the drill bit into the chuck and attempt to drill the cork out in a sauve manner.
But the bit just doesn't bite into the cork and fails. Again. And yes. It was my idea.
6. Host goes out to the local happy shopper to try and buy a corkscrew.
Meanwhile, Sim breaks out ye olde screw and claw hammer routine. With the screw refusing to bite. Again.
7. With the Happy Shopper only selling screw caps for the local chavs, break out the tea bags.

After a manic week, it's been topped by a wonderful evening alone on the sofa avec laptop. Girlpants had an evening meeting he couldn't wriggle out of, so I've been surfing fellow blogs and generally enjoying myself. The joy of an evening alone on the sofa with sole control of the remote, polished off by his walking through the door with a couple of bottles of red quickly whipping together up some pancakes with maple syrup.

However, it was such a quiet and blissful night that you just knew it was going to go tits up. And mine was chatting to Girlpants over perfect pancakes smoothered in the sap of trees about Lent and what from my childhood it entailed. And the giving up of sweets for character building and what it would entail in adult terms.

So that would be me off the gin for six entire weeks. I don't give it much of a chance but I will try - wish me luck as I do expect to be rather grumpy over the next week or so. Roll on the smoothies! Meanwhile, Girlpants is still umming and ahhing over his. Chocolate is out of the question, as is crisps and tea. He has kindly offered to give up cabbage, sprouts or vodka but as he never partakes in any, it sort of defeats the notion. So he has instructed me to come up with something for him by tomorrow morning.

Silly silly boy.