41
Happy birthday, Bobby Womack, Patsy Kensit, Evan Dando, James Ellroy, Shakin' Stevens and Brooklyn Beckham, all of whom share a birthday with me (above). I'm old enough now to not make too much fuss on this special day, but I appreciated all the cards with cats and birds on them (especially the owl), and if I write out a list of my presents it will give this blog entry the feel of my 1976 diary:
A Seinfeld book
A book voucher
A Sideways DVD
A really nice black jumper (I am into jumpers, which proves how grown up I am)
Two tickets to see Arctic Monkeys in April in Bournemouth (a real surprise, as we already have tickets for Brixton, but this will be a nice opportunity to stay in a hotel, and it's seated, which will be an interesting new combination of factors at what will be our fifth Arctic Monkeys gig)
Two tickets to go and see Malcolm Gladwell live on the South Bank this month

For the record, in 1976, I got:
Two drawing books
A box of paper
A "brill" pack of felt tips
Some drawing inks and different nibs
A drawing book
The Goodies File
A Liverpool mug
Two Subbuteo goals

As a treat on my birthday (this one), I got up at 6am and wrote some of my book. I had a leisurely breakfast of raspberries and banana, followed by my favourite millet and spelt cereal combination with oat milk, sultanas and pecans, and some tinned sardines with sun-dried tomatoes, pine nuts and chilli. I went to work, it being a Saturday, but enjoyed the Chart, as ever, if not our fleeting number one, Corinne Bailey-Railey, whose debut album will debut on the Official UK Album Chart tomorrow and will thus be robbed from us. It's a deal. I met my wife in Wimbledon and we ate a splendid birthday dinner at a posh burger restaurant in the village, where I had calamari and a sweet chilli dipping sauce, the house salad, two organic burgers without the bun and without the Monterey Jack, but with egg, bacon, pineapple, beetroot, chips and mayonnaise. (Chips was my birthday indulgence. I ate them all, even though they give you too many. This proves I am a reckless fool, living on the edge.)

I had a really nice birthday. Thanks to a few days working from home this week and to three sessions in the gym that I was able to fit in because of it, I don't feel 41. I really don't get worked up about age. Certainly not about the numbers.

Of course, in 1976, it was not all over on March 4 - I had a modest party on March 6, and more presents were forthcoming from my friends Kim, Milner, Griffin, Angus, Lewis and Wilson, including: a torch, the Eighth Army soldiers and a 50p gift voucher. Also, with some of the money I received on my birthday I bought The Tower paperback by Richard Martin Stern (on which The Towering Inferno was partly based - I was mad on disaster movies at this age) and The Goodies' Book Of Criminal Records (I was also mad on the Goodies). I can honestly day I would rather be 41 than 11. I've still got the Goodies books, Bill Oddie is now one of my favourite TV presenters, and I now own four torches, which are placed at opportune places around the house ready for the next power cut.

I hope Bobby Womack had a splendid day too.