Birthday week bgins

After weeks of dreading it, ignoring it and trying desperately hard to forget about it, I have decided to embrace my impending birthday and make the last week of my twenties truly memorable. 
The turn-around happened yesterday. I was over at Ted and Beryl’s to watch the World Darts Final with him, and Beryl was bringing out her usual neverending supply of snacks and ‘leftover Christmas chocolates.’ I was trying to be sensible and not eat too much in case I felt ill this morning and I just suddenly thought “what am I doing? Why am I letting a work meeting TOMORROW dictate how I am going to behave TODAY? If I AM ill in the morning I can just call in sick. What difference would it make really? And do I care?”
As soon as I had that thought, I felt better. And I had another few pieces of shortbread and then finished off Beryl’s mince pies. She was worried they might be past their best (they were made on Christmas Eve) but there’s so much alcohol in them I should think they’d have been alright for decades. 
Ted got the hump with me because Stephen Bunting won the title. I’d tipped Alan Norris to win way back in the First Round and it turned out Ted took my advice and put a bet on him. “That was a fair chunk out of my pension, you bastard” he said to me.
I said “Well what the Hell do I know? I watch darts about once every six months, you shouldn’t listen to me. I’m about as much use as a tipster as a puddle is as a racehorse”
We then sat in silence for ten minutes, both trying to work out what I’d meant.
But at least it stopped the argument in it’s tracks.

RC 13-1-14