I used to be really good at birthday presents for my other half. I would give it months of thought, scour shops, even commission special items to be made. For example, there was the original Super 8 Russian movie camera and projector, George Best Wedding Present mug (well, he loved it...) and even the custom built oak chest for storing his vinyl collection. Impressive huh?
Then we had children and now all my birthday creativity is spent on their August and September celebrations. Poor Monkey Man (a term of affection I promise). By October my brain is aching and empty and he's lucky if he gets a pair of socks.
This year I sunk to a new low. No socks, no pants, not even a card. In my defence, I did buy him a card, it's just that it's still in my handbag, unwritten.
So now, two days after the event, I'm trying to make amends. The children are holding him a celebratory tea party as they weren't with him on the actual day and, for my part, I have created him a birthday lawn. Best of all, if you don't stare very hard, you won't be able to tell how old he is.