Dot writes: it’s my birthday today. Last year my thirtieth birthday was comically, masochistically awful. It was a Friday. I went into work. On the way from the station to my office I got utterly soaked in exceptionally heavy rain and I then spent the morning drying off, with my sodden shoes propped against the heater and my sopping skirt spread over the arms of my office chair. I spoke to no-one all day apart from one of the secretaries (and of course my beloved Ken, in the evening, but let’s not spoil the impression of gloom and misery). I allowed myself to leave early (about four) and went and bought my first pair of maternity jeans. The maternity jeans were rather cheap and always prone to fall down.
This year, the weather is beautiful – blue skies and only a smattering of grey ominous clouds. My darling Hugh greeted me with a perfectly formed little present in his nappy and has not yet been sick on me today. Ken and his Dad have both given me excellent presents, including (from Ken) a recording of the BBC radio series with Flight of the Conchords (New Zealand’s fourth most popular folk-parody band). We are planning an outing to Avondale House in Co. Wicklow, which is a very Dot kind of outing. Happy day!