Half-baked cake and dining out with men I’m not married to. That, apparently, is what I wrote about on my last two blog birthdays. I never know what to say, so decided to go all historical and see what worked on previous occasions.
While it was quite entertaining (yes, I’m the kind of witch who laughs at her own jokes), it provided me with no inspiration whatsoever.
But, well, the thing is. We are nine years old, Bookwitch and me. Who’d have thought? Much greyer, and much fatter. Less spring (I accidentally typed sproing…) in our step. More autumn, probably. But that’s what broomsticks are for.
We’re happy though (when we manage to stay awake), so will soldier on for a while longer. We’d like to do some more interviews. The face-to-face kind, so if a few people wouldn’t mind coming round here?
Pass the half-baked cake! I’ll have cream with mine. And I’ll enjoy it in the company of the Resident IT Consultant, and not some other man.