Birthday Alert - Invitation Time.

Happy New Year! 

God bless the Dutch, and their amazing deep-fried foodstuffs, a major high-light of my Hogmanay celebrations. 

This post is sponsored by Paracetamol, Caffeine and Phenylephrine. And then probably some more caffeine.

I wrote it in bed last night, on a tiny scrap of paper as I was falling asleep. This is all of it.

                  

For most of us this week is all about the massive culture shock that is the return to our own mundane lives. My job is fine, but it's a far cry from all of the sitting around doing nothing that I've been getting rather good at of late. And I have a cold to boot. Two weeks of healthiness, even in a house which is home to two fluffy mobile allergen machines, and then I return to Aberdeen and L swiftly gives me all of the finest lurgies that Hertfordshire has to offer.

Back at our desks, decorations back in their boxes. I even had to put the tiny Jesus back in his plastic box last night. It was really rather distressing. I had to eat a big bowl of jelly and watch Miranda to console myself. And dare I say it, finding ourselves in need of a little cheering up. Especially since the fridge is buggered so the jelly was half liquid and half frozen and didn't really match up to my expectations for it*.

Forget about Jesus**, it's time to celebrate me! Now obviously I am not the messiah (neither am I a very naughty boy) so we should probably tone it down a bit in comparison with the whole Christmas Fandango, but I think I might get away with a quiet little party or something of that ilk. Christmas is over for another little while, so now I can invite you to my Birthday Party. I always like to be planning the next thing. You could say I was wishing my life away but I can't help it. The next things are (1) the Aurora Burns Supper, (2) the Aurora Weekend Away, and (3) IVFDF, which if you don't know about you should go google right now. Very excited about each one of these things, so I'm not allowed to think about them all at once or my head will explode***. Notice how I'm not getting excited about planning to do useful things like going to the bank and tidying my room and doing laundry and all the other little jobs I've promised to do. Yes, they will get done, honest. I did some cleaning this weekend and three whole rooms were simultaneously presentable. I felt like this was an achievement, which is probably symptomatic of me not being a grown-up.

We might be getting a new Kitchen! 

Eek.
Me to L: "Will we have a new kitchen before my Birthday"?
L: "I'd be very happy if we did have"
So if you're really lucky this will work out quite nicely on two fronts: #1 - there'll be a nice kitchen for you to come see and generally hang out in (because all the best parties wind up in the kitchen), and #2 - I'll have been able to make cake in an oven that isn't on a slope.

It was at this point that my lunchbreak ran out, and I wandered off to trade in this little beauty for a nice big cup of office fuel.

A sight for sore, computer-strained eyes.

So now I'm home, and rushing a little to publish and then get on with a number of grown-up jobs that I've promised myself will get done tonight. Talking to you lot is much more fun.

So Christmas happened and many things were lovely. And it strikes me that some of the loveliest things were little parties, in people's own houses were everyone was welcome and knew they were amongst friends. If you were one of the people who had one of these parties, you probably know who you are, and I think you're awesome. It's a really special thing to make someone welcome, and for them to properly feel welcome. And that got me thinking about the word. My late Grannie was someone who believed so wholeheartedly in making a space for the stranger. I still don't know whether it's an old scots thing or just a "my Grannie" thing, but I remember at New Years day dinner each year she'd count who'd be there and set an extra place at the table. That stuck with me so strongly. The idea that at any moment she would have been happy to welcome a stranger to our family table. I guess I think it's important. Which brings me back to kitchens - I have a notion that someone feels at home in your house as soon as they've made their own cup of tea there. I want other people to feel welcome to wander in to my house and feel at home, to wander in to my kitchen and make their own tea. And one for me while you're at it please.

Anything on our teapot shelf is fair game. Help yourself.

And then there are times when a welcome falls short, and people remember those too. I once spent a whole evening delivering Church invites with the words "Come As You Are" splashed across them. Then on the first Sunday the Church invited a speaker from "Scotland For Marriage" who I personally didn't find overly welcoming and who made it clear that you could actually only really "come as you are" if what you happened to be fitted within a very specific set of constraints. I guess I want my own personal space to be a place where people can genuinely come as they are.

We live here, anything goes.

Heck, I'm getting a bit deep here. Quick, here's a bunny. 

Everyone ok? Yes, phew.

So this is my chance to find an excuse to invite you all round. This year I am going to have a Birthday****, not a particularly big one or anything, but I haven't really celebrated any of my recent biggies so this is catch-up time.

Open House, at our house, Saturday 21st March, from 1pm.

Get it in your diaries. Bring the kids (you know you're a grown up when your friends are having children that didn't happen by accident), just let me know and I'll tidy away the powertools and knives and stuff. If no-one comes I will have a clean house and lots of party food all for me. If you come in your droves then you better all get on with each other. I'll promise I'll tidy my bedroom, and you can pretend the day-bed is another sofa and have an alternative party. If alcohol's your thing, you can help us get through the backlog, just as long as you don't mind drinking some strange things. There will be food, the sort of food that you'd have to feel guilty about***** if you ate it at home because it's so unhealthy there should be a special reason. I will be your reason. I promise not to put anything odd in the cake.

Diaries out. Sat 21/03/15. Party at my place. Get in touch if you need the address, this is the internet after all.

Happy Birthday to everyone who has one this year! 

Till next week.



*Which weren't anything out of the ordinary. I just wanted some jelly in my life. I have recently accidentally stockpiled quite a number of packets of strawberry jelly because I get all stressed out and become really bad company if I'm worried that we might not have jelly in the house. I can blame this quite wholeheartedly on our new Minister. Hutton - all your fault. Long story short, I'm gonna be eating lots of jelly for a while. Mmmmm....

**Or rather, just put him to one side for a minute. He won't mind. Or if he does he'll forgive you.

***And I'm at work, so the cleaners would complain.

****As will you, I can guarantee it. 

***** I wouldn't, but I don't believe in feeling guilty about eating.