Down to earth with a bump

Well, my last day as a fortysomething.

I briefly thought of doing something wackily out of character, but ended up in reflective mood down at the museum and art gallery enjoying Renoir, Seurat and Corot.

Then it was down to the park for a picnic with Mrs Dailykeith.

While I was there, my boss rang and asked me for my private email. 'That's odd,' I thought. 'Maybe he wants to send birthday wishes.'

It's not something the firm usually does, but it is a 50th, after all.

I found out later what the surprise present actually was: planned redundancies. We'll be told on Monday, apparently.

I'm trying to block it out of my mind to prevent it from spoiling both the weekend and my birthday. As you can see, I'm not having much success.

Why do they have to cause us days of torment every time they get out their axe?

A guy stopped me in the street this afternoon asking where he could find 'Tisco'. I told him I'd never heard of it, until I suddenly realised he was from Down Under and the nation's favourite(?) supermarket was just around the corner.