I love the belly dancing ladies in the West End Festival parade - though, if I had to choose between being one of them and being a samba drummer, I'm afraid there would be no choice

And, another day, another birthday (bad bit of biological planning on my part...).

Up early to find him and his shattered pals waiting for breakfast and presents. He churned through them at top speed as usual (the speed not very popular with me..) and then off to the sports club awards where he bagged a gong which I think he was chuffed with and I don't think was entirely about his dad being a coach...

I schlepped off to lie in the sun again before persuading Big P to watch parade, finding the wee man again for an ice cream and finally ending the day with my birthday boy reading in bed and talking about the day he was born.