Happy Birthday!

My birthday was brilliant! So brilliant that I didn't have time to blog about it yesterday, so here's what went down…

Wilson gave me my birthday present, which was the first prototype model of his Mk2 WASTE clock — he says that as the first prototype it will one day be hugely valuable and probably appear on the Antiques Road Show. 

Then he took me into the garden where everyone had prepared a picnic lunch! 

Before we started eating, he perched on the picnic hamper and sang me a song he had written specially for my birthday. It's called New Dad's Birthday Blues:

     My New Dad woke this morning

          Another year nearer the grave

     Yes, he woke up this morning

          A whole year nearer the grave 

     Ain't nothing he can do 'bout it,

          He's gonna have to be brave!

Unexpected item in bagging area

Wilson phoned me from the village to ask whether I could collect him from Tesco and drive him home with his shopping. He said he was still in the supermarket but would be ready to go by the time I arrived.

As I entered the store the first thing I saw was W having words with one of the self-service checkouts.  

'There'll be a VERY unexpected item in your bagging area in a minute!' he hissed at it, menacingly. 

Buffet?

I see we shall be having crisps, too. Cheese, olives and crisps.

Perhaps it's to be a buffet meal?

Food shopping

Wilson is in the village buying ingredients for the birthday dinner he plans to cook for me.

I can see from this photo that olives and cheese will be involved. 

This is good, as I like olives and cheese, especially a nice piece of Brie or Camembert; Pont l'Evenque or Stinking Bishop, not so much.

He usually spends altogether too long at the cheese counter, availing himself of the little free samples on cocktail sticks and trying to persuade the Cheese Department Manageress to stock cheese-with-ants, which is a Costa Rican delicacy. 

Allegedly. 

Wilson's question is answered!

When I came down to breakfast this morning, Wilson was waiting to tell me that one of his Twitter friends in Australia, Dr Mel (@Dr_Mel_Thompson) is a Medical Researcher and had answered his question about why towels get dirty.

Apparently, the dirt on used towels is made of dead skin and microbes! I had no idea! Nor, of course, had W who has vowed to start giving towels a boil wash next laundry day because 'Microbes are well yucky, and so is dead skin — eeeeeuw!' 

His alternative, labour-saving suggestion — that after I wash I just 'Shake yourself about a bit and drip dry, New Dad' — I rejected out of hand. 

Dr Mel is clearly a good influence, though, as W has promised that he will start washing his paws every week and before cooking. 

I hope he's not making himself a nuisance with her and stopping her from doing vital research — I'll have a word with him later. 

In the meantime he's popped into the village to buy the ingredients for the 'phenomenally wondrous' dinner he's going to cook for my birthday on Friday. 

I hope not too many ants are involved…

One of life's imponderables...

Sometimes Wilson takes my by surprise with a deceptively simple question which I can't readily answer. This morning he asked me:

'New Dad, why do towels get dirty? They're only used to dry the clean water that's left on you after you've washed or showered, so they should just stay clean.'

He's right, isn't he?