Five times seven

I woke up in rather a bad mood on Saturday morning, after a night's sleep interrupted by occasional pains in the joints of my right hand. (That's a proper old man ailment, that is.) However, Meg took me downstairs and showed me a surprise she had made for me.

( Obnoxiously large birthday cake picture within. Smaller spoiler available elsewhere. )

I squealed. I giggled. I hooted and even gurgled with joy. Pretty ace as cakes, birthday or otherwise, go. (Tastes lovely, too; devil's food cake with vanilla icing, chocolate curls for the darker patches, chocolate digestives for the paws and ears and marshmallows-on-"Thin Mints" for the eyes. We have eaten up as far as the smile.) My bad mood evaporated at once - I am still "going on eight" even now I'm thirty-five - and the rest of the birthday weekend was wonderful.

Thank you all very much for your kind birthday wishes! I need to bring my profile right up to date.