Early birthday presents

It’s my birthday tomorrow, but after opening some of my presents on Saturday – new cycling shorts, new pants and socks, and Guy Martin’s second autobiography – I had one more parcel that my wife had given me to fly back to Singapore with. It had the concerning dimensions and weight of a small, hyper expensive electronic gadget and I worried my wife had overreached.

I was thus ever more pleased to open it and find instead of a soon-to-be-obsolescent device, there was a new wallet waiting for me. No guilt would I feel about receiving that. (My last wallet, a lovely black Belkin, which my wife bought me three years ago, is really showing its age: the weather in Singapore has made the surface of it pucker up, like the acne scarred face of the chief villain in License To Kill. That’s not something you want in your trouser pocket.)

My new wallet is made of cork, which, my wife informed me, signified that I am a hipster. To make sure, she also gave me a small tin of moustache wax, for my by now ridiculous and impractical moustache. Well, impractical until now; the wax will prevent it drooping into my mouth, and once more I’ll be able to eat soup.

So, although I’ll be far from my family this birthday, at least I’ll be neat and tidy. All this beard and moustache paraphernalia means I can never justify a shave again…

I spent most of today quite groggy. I woke up on time, having slept seven hours, but my head was muzzy all day and I didn’t really wake up until five in the afternoon. (I started the morning by calling my wife, forgetting that the UK is eight hours behind Singapore, not ahead, and closely avoiding waking her at midnight.) This evening I went for a fairly strenuous spinning class, then spent an hour at home trying to balance the family accounts, before ringing my wife at the right time in order to get my presents.

And so, to bed. Tomorrow will be my last birthday in my thirties. I can’t quite remember what the first one was like now…

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