36 Hour Party People

I’ve just turned the ‘ripe’ (rotten) old age of 38.

In NZ, on my birthday morning, I got a big kiss from Rach and a sloppy one from Leo (or is that the other way round?), then after a bit of breakfast checked my phone and Facebook to read happy birthday wishes from friends in the UK, for whom it was still the 7^th.

I then had the whole of my birthday day, complete with steak and stout, and then woke up on the morning of New Zealand’s 9^th…..with MORE messages from friends, for whom it was still the 8^th in the UK.

So I make that, from midnight on the 8^th in New Zealand, to midnight on the 9^th in the UK…..36 hours of birthday!  Ker-ching!

There’s ALWAYS something happening, something to pay attention to.  If I wake up in the middle of Sunday night, getting back to sleep is made no easier by the knowledge that I can follow the Saturday afternoon kick off live on the computer.

It’s exhausting!

(BTW the post title refers to this, apologies to Happy Mondays):