ITEM: I woke on the first morning of my 59th year with a desire to conquer the world somewhat akin to that felt by the Mongol chieftain Timurlane in his middle years, but handicapped by the lack of an elite fighting force to carry out my will.
Give me time though, and I’m sure I can work around that.
ITEM: The Imaginary Girlfriend did indeed gift me a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey, but she is forgiven as she also included several small boxes of chocolate.
This is an improvement over the last time she sent me ‘sexually explicit’ material as a present, when she also included a box of tissues.
The woman is not subtle, but then, neither am I, which I guess might have been her point 😦
I’ve eaten the chocolates already. Really not sure when I’ll get round to reading the book.
ITEM: Going for a long walk on a beach seemed like an eminently enjoyable way to spend my birthday morning, and so I washed up in the seaside resort of Gorleston on the east coast of Norfolk.
The beach, which in summer is packed with sunbathers and holidaymakers, on Saturday was heaving with dog walkers and fishermen, and so the pleasant stroll I’d anticipated became an endurance event, dodging the friendly overtures of yappy little dogs let off the leash by their owners and jumping up at every innocent passer-by, followed by attempts to not get decapitated by high tech fishing lines made out of tensile steel or the angling equivalent.
ITEM: Having been seized by an almost overwhelming desire to pee and finding myself at least ten minutes walk from the nearest public lavatory, I now have a much firmer grasp of the Theory of Relativity.
ITEM: Back in Norwich after my coastal excursion, I saw a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Tory hard man Ian Duncan-Smith, but as he walked past a woman in a wheelchair and didn’t sneer at her I guessed he wasn’t the real thing, just a sad victim of early hair loss and misplaced trust in the efficacy of power dressing.
ITEM: Matthew Bourne’s interpretation of the classical ballet Sleeping Beauty was simply wonderful and something I recommend you all catch if it comes to a theatre near you. His fairies looked rather like angels, with their tiny effete wings. The bad fairy’s henchmen dressed in black and wore hoodies. The good fairy dressed as Lestat and there was something very vampiric about his method of converting Princess Aurora’s beloved into a fairy so that he could last out the hundred years of her sleep. The highlight of the show though was in the opening and closing sequences, when the stage was taken over by an animatronic baby (at the end with its own tiny wings). Tchaikovsky is probably spinning in his grave, as delighted by it all as the rest of us were.
ITEM: I’d told The Imaginary Girlfriend that I’d be out on my birthday and would ring her in the evening at eight when Strictly was over (she’s devoted to it, and I am considerate of her needs).
So, the minute I get in the door just before seven the phone starts ringing, but finishes before I can get to it, and then a text arrives – ‘Where are you? Why haven’t you rung me?’
So, I ring her and:-
Me: I told you I was out and would ring you at eight after you’ve watched Strictly.
TIG: Then why are you ringing me now?
Me: Because you texted me.
TIG: I’m watching Strictly. Ring me at eight. (Hangs up.)
So, I ring her at eight, and she’s on the phone with somebody else.
You know, there are times when I feel this woman is not as committed to our non-relationship as I am.
Trumpetville 