I had a fabulous birthday that began with Georgia singing Happy Birthday very beautifully and very off-key while she was sitting on the toilet. Then, at her rather inspired suggestion we all wore party hats leftover from her birthday while we had breakfast together. little later my mom picked me up and we went to the spa (facial for me, massage for her ‘ today is her birthday! Happy Birthday mummy!! I love you!) followed by a lovely lunch complete with laughter, tears, and really nice chablis. My e-mail inbox was full of birthday wishes and I received calls from several different time zones, including various birthday serenades (in both official languages ‘ impressive!) After a nap and a hot bath, my husband and Georgia came home ‘ she carrying a big bunch of bright orange flowers, and he bringing me gorgeous lingerie & champagne (which, I think we can all agree, go extremely well together.) This husband of mine. He still manages to find me attractive and make me feel beautiful even after I lost all my hair, grew back someone else’s, had a large port implanted in my chest (it looks like I lost a coat button under my skin) and got all carved up and scarred. The fact that he brings me lingerie makes me want to cry with gratitude: it means he doesn’t see the cancer first — he sees me as a woman first ‘ a whole, and hopefully totally foxy, woman. But instead of crying with gratitude I jumped up and down like a hopped-up jack russell terrier and kissed him about 100 times. Then I played with Georgia while he cooked me dinner and we drank champagne. Totally dreamy birthday. Keep ’em coming, I say.