Bookwitch

We are in severe danger of being caked out around here. The Resident IT Consultant has taken it upon himself to become a year older today. So has Lionel Shriver, and the fact that they share a birthday really worries me. And they are nearly the same age, too. Daughter is attending a birthday sleepover, and yesterday we went to Kipper’s 18th.

Yep, Kipper is an adult, as of now. Although he looks as young and adorable as ever. 60 of his bestest friends were invited, and they played, listened to the story of Kipper’s birthday and the dreadful results of his baking. They drank juice and decorated Kipper hats, and some bold ones even asked to stroke Kipper. And maddest of all, they kept thinking Kipper was hiding (resting) in the toilet, but I checked and he wasn’t.

A Kipper shaped cake preceded the party bags with Kipper books (very Kippery, this) and then Kipper dutifully paw-printed every book. After which we went home, with cake in our bags which we didn’t need, on account of us having a fair bit of cake anyway, in these parts.

Kipper’s publicist (he’s got one of those, as well!) was in danger of being stranded in the North, so she hailed a taxi to Sheffield to catch her elusive train home.