I am writing this blog now, twenty four hours before my Birthday as I expect I will be unable to master hand-eye co-ordination to any proficient degree during the next forty eight hours. The 'celebrations' commenced last night with an impromptu gallon of wine with Mel last night after possibly the hardest working week of my career and a presentation on Wednesday which I will remember for good and bad reasons for the rest of my life. My policy of not talking about work in any detail prevents me from any further description but I will just say that when I got home on Wednesday night I was a gibbering wreck and I am glad it is over.
One thing I can share with you is that a few seconds before I was due to start my presentation we realised the room was not big enough to accommodate the audience. We decided to switch to another bigger room which involved transferring a large buffet. Whilst precariously balancing a large tray of sandwiches I inadvertently backed into a tray of Guacamole, Sour Cream and Salsa and was therefore forced to present to a large audience whilst sporting a 'Tricoleur' jacket which certainly helped to break the ice.
This morning Mel made me breakfast in bed mainly due to the fact that I was unable to get out of it. I had a bastard behind the eyes and could barely speak but it's good practice for the two days ahead.
My speech for tomorrow night remains a concept at this stage and I have typically left it until very late in the day in the vain hope that inspiration decides to pay me a visit but there is little sign yet. Mumbling a few thank-yous is apparently not enough and Mel is expecting me to be funny which I only really ever manage by accident so perhaps I can concoct some form of comedy incident, though in reality they tend to visit me uninvited anyway.
Tomorrow I am going to the City v Chelsea football match where I expect to have a dampener put on my day but that is the lot of a Manchester City fan and I have steeled myself accordingly for the dreadful inevitability of a 'wupping'. My friend Neil in France will be the one who emerges from the day with football satisfaction and I will just have to take it like a 40 year old man.
I have decided that as today is my last day of being thirty something, I will revert to childish behaviour of the kind that I was scolded for as a child. So an evening of skidding on my knees, picking my nose, playing practical jokes and talking too loudly should fit the bill. The fact that we are going for a meal to a posh restaurant tonight doesn't phase me. I'm sure if I explain, they will understand my errant behaviour.
Mel is displaying incredible amounts of patience at my mid-life meltdown and whilst I appreciate her understanding, she will probably run out of her stocks of both patience and understanding by Sunday morning. By then I will be 40 and I will use my new found maturity and sophistication to make it up to her in some as yet unthought of way.
Wish me luck, I'm going in........
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