Lynne, my dear, being a serious sort of soul (though others may say arse), I don't dwell oftentimes below the line, but a badly aimed glass of Bailey's Reserva seems to have locked the page down key, and here you are having a birthday!

Happy belated birthday, old love, and I look forward to leading a party of local dignitaries to your belated party on the 16th next.

Back to the teat dip and yard scraping then! Chop chop!