Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Layclerk, happy birthday to me!
I've pretty much stopped counting them (not through vanity, I really don't care), and this year's is no more significant than any other. In three years though, well that's different. If I'm spared. Deo Volente.
In that year, 2012, I will be fifty years old, as will several of my friends. They know who they are so I will not mention them by initials here and now. But mark my words. We are going to have a fuck-off sized party at some point in the middle of the year. Or at least I am if no one else will.
I have a confession.
This post was a long one, and was typed a few days ago and scheduled to appear here at the appointed time today, but as I typed it it developed into a bit of a sad one, and I don't want to feel sad right now. So I've hived off the sad stuff and saved it as a draft which may or may not ever see the light of Blog-land. Probably not though.
So, suffice to say,
Happy birthday to me.