7162/19682
Fifty-five? You’ve got to be kidding. Come on. Stop this. This joke isn’t funny any more.
Absolutely crazy old. It makes no sense at all.
Thanks as always to Northern Ireland for making a fuss of my birthday. Though I think I should finally come clean, although orange is my favourite colour and I love annoying my neighbours, I don’t actually like bowler hats that much. Not sure how that became a part of it.
Of course I nearly didn't make it thanks to my car tyre, but first thing in the morning I leant over the hob to pick something up and set fire to the arm of my dressing gown. It briefly burst into flame but I managed to pat it out quickly, but it all felt a bit Final Destination. Death will try to get me back for cheating it.
I braved another drive into London today, though in our other car, as the electric one is still sitting deflated in our garage. I know how it feels. I just sulked in the garage when I had my testicle popped. It was a bit strange driving past the scene of yesterday’s incident, but not as strange as it would have been if a tyre had popped on this car too. We were going to the Taskmaster house for their summer barbecue, which seemed like a good way for me to have a secret birthday party without telling any of the other guests. Coincidentally the Taskmaster production team are my only real friends so it worked out perfectly. And they’d sorted out all the food and drink. It was cool to get to go back to the house, though disappointing not to have a series of tasks to do. Catie was excited to look round the house and get photos of herself in most of the significant locations, though mainly to make her best friend jealous. I was pleased to see that my photo in the winners’ gallery has now got an additional rosette to indicate that I am a Champion of Champions.
I didn’t really need any further proof that this is the most wonderful TV show in the country with the best team behind it, but this barbecue proved it. It was mainly the production team, but people had brought along their kids (it was a bit too late and too long a journey to bring our little ones on a school night and they would have been the youngest by some margin - and Ernie would have destroyed the place) and because it’s such a family show, those kids were wide-eyed with glee about being there.
Everyone said the house was smaller than it looked on the TV and even though I've been here before it still felt like that to me. It doesn't feel real that I actually got to do this programme. Maybe I didn't. But they didn't seem to mind me turning up the barbecue anyway.
It was a nice way to celebrate my birthday in this way. Low key and not about me. Maybe I should just go to someone else’s party every July 12th. And when I say every July 12th I mean all the ones that I am going to be around for. So somewhere between three and fifteen.
