We're going across the river this morning to wish a septuagenarian who's just turned octogenarian a "Happy Birthday". Padma baked a tiramisu and also bought a large teapot in the shape of a cockerel - did I mention that we buy all our eggs from them? - which is the broadest hint possible that we expect to be invited for tea more often.
Of course, being a septuagenarian myself with just another five years on the clock before also turning into an octogenarian (which is Latin for 'old fuddy-duddy', Des), I know what's most precious at this stage in our lives, and so I bought him a whole jar of it. "Happy 80th Birthday, Neil!"
Okay, you're a year older, Neil, and older than you've ever been before, but you're a year younger than you'll be this time next year, and, in fact, younger than you'll ever be again. Did you follow all that?
