Dear otterfriends. It was my birthday yesterday.
27 years ago, at 8:49am, a small infant was delivered into the world, (after causing my mother some distress since she began labour on the Sunday afternoon and I wasn't born til Tuesday morning - haha, you're welcome, Mum!) opened one eye, gazed suspiciously at the surrounding team of medical staff, decided there was nothing of interest happening and then promptly fell asleep. I think this was a pretty good indication of the kind of person I was likely to turn out to be.
The entire tale of my entry into Life is quite amusing; from the point my mother claimed she was going to have a totally natural birth and then caved about 10 minutes after her first really painful contraction, to the moment she grabbed the nitrous oxide mask from my father's hands so fast that she didn't realise she'd ripped it away from the tubing and was in fact inhaling only oxygen (much to his amusement) to the moment she woke up in agony and stitched to the nines, to find my father sitting in a comfortable chair with his feet on the bed, enjoying a cup of tea and a selection of chocolate biscuits. Apparently his gentle and loving enquiry as to how she was feeling was met with a much less loving and gentle tirade of verbal abuse. I can kind of see her point.
In any case, my parents drove through to Edinburgh yesterday to take me for dinner. Wetsoks joined us, and I am so glad, because without her the following conversation would never have occurred.
Mum: (almost at the end of one glass of wine and already giggling a lot) So, let me tell you about the time she-
Me: Mum, please!
Waiter: Can I get you anything else?
Me: No, I think we're fine, thank you.
Waiter: Is it someone's birthday?
Me: Mine.
Waiter: Ah! Happy birthday!
Mum: (leaning forward conspiratorially) It's almost my birthday too. I'm going to be 40, aha.
This is untrue on a epic scale.
Waiter: (uncertainly) Oh?
Wetsoks: Yes... 40 plus VAT.
Mum: What?
Wetsoks: Value added tax.
Dad: What is it now - 20%?
Wetsoks: Yep.
Mum: (pausing for a moment in outrage) I'm not 60!
Dad: Darling. Think about that for a moment. What's 20% of 40?
Mum: You know I can't do percentages!
Me: (pissing myself laughing) Best birthday dinner ever!
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