I was planning to have a low key birthday but not quite as low key as this.
Months ago I bought tickets for the T S Eliot poetry prize reading which is usually held around my birthday and this year was actually on the day itself. I'd thought I'd maybe go somewhere for tea beforehand and/or have dinner afterwards. I was still hopeful yesterday that I would wake up this morning feeling much better but it was not to be.
I stayed in bed until 3 and then got and made my way downstairs for tea and presents from Traybake and Soda Farl.
I knew that going out later was not an option. TB decided he wouldn't go either and despite a bit of ringing round no-one else was free so in the end SF went off to it by himself. TB then invited me down for spag bol which was the first non nursery food I'd eaten in days. It was possibly one of the quietest birthdays I've ever had and certainly the only one where I've had dinner with someone wearing a mask.
One of the things about being at home so much is I have become even more obsessed with the internets and have spent the past few days following the furore on twitter and various blogs on the transgender issue. This was simmering away and then exploded this morning when in the Observer the charming Julie Burchill threw oil on the fire in her usual gratuitously offensive way. The other story I'm following is the implosion of the SWP which feels a little closer to home. In my 20s I knew a lot of people in the SWP and am one degree of separation away from one of the main protagonists in the scandal. All very sobering. I need to find some pictures of kittens.