Message from an older man

It's my birthday today. What in god's name I want another birthday for, I can't imagine – but there we are. I used to like birthdays when I was younger – there was always that special feeling that it was your day, and your day only. Of course, that's never true either – millions of people must share the same date. I personally know at least three people whose birthday it is today, and then of course there are also the famous people who share the same date. Actually, I don't think there are many famous people celebrating on 27th July – well, there's the actor Jonathan Rhys Meyers who I think looks a bit like my friend Ivor Jenkins (who, strangely enough, is also Welsh); and there's the ice skater Christopher Dean (who, strangely enough, is also from Nottingham – this is getting spooky).

Anyway, I won't be doing any largeing it up today. I'm planning on a quiet dinner with my daughter this evening because most of my usual drinking cronies are away on holiday. I'll probably pop into Broadway for a drink or two at some point (well in fact I know I will because I've already arranged to meet a friend there later), but I won't be treating myself to anything new, because there's nothing I really want. It's true, I have everything I need really, so it would only be a waste of money to buy myself a gift. I've also told people not to give me presents because I'm trying to dispose of my possessions, not attract more. My mother & father gave me money, which I spent on whisky.

Well, I've finished the short story I was writing earlier in the week (the one about the cock-mad female poet), so now it's back to working on the novel. Once more unto the river!