Happy birthday to you, Cliff!

The great Cliff Richard reaches pensionable age today. Many happy returns are also in order for Roger Moore, the late E E Cummings and the very late Battle of Hastings.

And I'm tired out. I set my alarm clock for half seven, same as usual, and ignored it as I always do, only to be dragged out of bed five minutes later by my dad phoning with birthday greetings. He'd been at work for four hours, so it was the middle of the day by his standards, and he'd assumed I'd be going to work today. Even when I do go to work, I'm never out of bed by 7:35, but the early risers of this world just don't appreciate that.

Anyway, I've spent the whole day since then buying supplies and making preparations for this party. I've baked a cake, or rather two cakes since I didn't have a cake tin big enough for all the cake mix I'd prepared. They're not going to win any beauty contests, but I'm hopeful that they'll be edible. Also made a trifle and jelly and blancmange, and found my Back To The Future board game (free with Smith's Crisps back in 1985) - if there's anything else you need for a great party then I certainly don't know what it is.

I found a bunny-rabbit mould for the blancmange in the Co-op, which I just had to buy. A pink blancmange bunny and green jelly grass was an essential part of birthday parties for the first ten years or so of my life - see, that's another good thing my mother's done, in accordance with those resolutions yesterday. Had a perfectly civil conversation with her on the phone this afternoon, if anyone's keeping track. I was even doing my best to nudge it over the line into 'friendly', but we generally stuck to 'polite'.

It's a good thing I phoned Grandma to get that number, actually, because she was distraught at not having sent me a card or phoned me, due to an incident with marmalade and her address book. I filled in the bits that had been obliterated by orange sticky stuff and promised to come down and take her out for a fancy meal when I get my redundancy money.

My brother had called earlier, also assuming I'd be at work but phoning me anyway with the intention of leaving a message (he hasn't got a phone at home so has to call from his office or a phone box - we don't go in for mobiles in this family) so I signed him up for this lunch date and gratefully accepted his generous promises to buy me a card and present if and when he has any money.

I don't know if other people can have conversations with their family without it sounding like something out of a sitcom (or, in my mother's case, some kind of deep BBC2 drama). Still, which would you rather be, weird or boring? No contest.