Sunday, 30 November 2008

Now We Are Properly Sixty

Morning after the night before. Same cardi.

Last of the self-indulgences here. Masses of Facebook greetings and nice cards including a splendid rollicking verse from Peter Scupham. And daughter H produces an entire alphabet of verse, eg

...H is Papa's daughter
She looks like Papa too.
Some say that it is hard
To tell just who is who.
(Though H says that's not true.)

I was the Injury
Sustained back in the days
When Papa was a matador:
An interesting phase.

J is Jazz piano
Papa plays at night.
He cannot see the black notes so he
Only plays the white..

All true. My matador days were brief but glorious. I took the mat over to the door and laid it neat and flat, thereby immediately transforming myself from matador to flatador. It was easy. The rest is bull.

Verses come with utterly convincing drawings. Right through to Z for Zenith.

Present from combined second generation a finger-touch iPod. It's a beautiful piece of kit. I feel empowered and ready to face the next sixty years. Dinner with second generation plus quartet of lovely friends.

Self-indulgence stops here. And no YouTubery today. I think I have exhausted both YouTube's and my own patience with them for a week. Normal service to resume tomorrow.


Poet in Residence said...

George, many thanks for telling us about your Radio 3 interview. I enjoyed it, and learnt a few things too, despite a couple of interruptions. I will listen to you again but when it's quieter. I've 'hinzufugened' it.

Monica said...

Since I am lost to terra facebook and newly found on the blogiverse, the happy belated birthday will have to suffice here. Amen to the next sixty years.

George S said...

Thank you, both. I am entitled to a free bus pass (off peak-hours) if I can grab my zimmer frame and get my ass over to the council offices, with incontrovertible proof of my astounding longevity.

Ms Baroque said...

George, and looking damn fine on it too! Though if your minus-one generation (i.e., dad) is anything to go by, you're just a spring chicken in Szirtes years.

Many many happy returns.

and a lovely evening last night at the Hungarian Centre. Made me wish I was Hungarian.

The Plump said...

Great pose, hides the chins. Do it myself all the time :-)

George S said...

Hold it there, Plump! I can still count the chins on one finger!

Thank you Ms Baroque. It was really nice to see you there.