The Switzergent

Rob is going to be 40 tomorrow.

I have made him a card. I have bought him a present. The girls have too, and I am about to wrap all three. Emma and I have made him a birthday banner and stuck it all over with stickers and lentils and pasta. There is a birthday cheesecake chilling in the fridge and special breakfast - fancy muesli plus goodies from the bakery. I bought lilies on Saturday that I hope will stop being stubborn and open in the next 8 hours. I need to fiddle around with bluetak and pins and things and I am too excited to go to bed.

He is too many things to sum up, but I will have a go. He is my driver. My chef. My organic gardener. My personal stylist. My loyal morning tea maker. Handyman. Therapist. Artist. Computing trouble shooter. Sounding board. Bodyguard. Singing and dancing partner. Silly accent impersonator. Hot water bottle. Breadwinner. Best daddy of girls. Best friend. Endurance champion, as he is stuck with me until one of us is dead.

I am sorry I have only known him for 5 of the last forty years. I hope there is another forty in us both.

(Yes, yes it's all a bit Steve-Wright-in-the-afternoon, pass the sick bag etc etc but get over it, ok? Normal service will resume the day after tomorrow.)