On Tuesday he celebrated his 18th birthday. I'm pleased to say he decided to celebrate by wearing his deerstalker to school, then to Anchor Boys where he was happy to be sung to and cake-laden.
And a family meal out.
This is my Mum with him. She wanted to get him cuff-links, or a watch, but which young man nowadays wears cuff-links or watches when they have t shirts and phones? So I said was there any thing else.
She thought for a while and then offered him her fountain pen set, a 1950's gold plated Parker pen. What else would you give an aspiring writer but a really good pen to sign the multi-million pound book deal?
Which reminds me, I must check my lottery ticket tonight. It was a roll-over, so I treated myself to a lucky dip.
And tonight the Master Baker has been at work, with a bundt tin and a jar of chocolate frosting. She sent her father out for extra Skittles and Smarties. Well worth it, though. The cake has not lasted past one night.
Happy Birthday, Handsome. You don't half look like your Grandad. (and by all accounts am beginning to be a lot more like him in behaviour; he's getting cheeky!)
So, no real round up. I'm reading Return of The Native now (just downloaded it) and still working on a blue blanket. Soon I'll be able to take photos in the evening. Still watching Game of Thrones, and doing very little else if I can help it. And, for a little light relief, this is the list of reasons for admission to a mental asylum in mid-19th Century USA. My friend posted it for me on Facebook. Wonder which criterion she thinks I'd count under?