I get up later than usual, because of the occasion and because I can, and take the dog out on a long walk across the fields, to a hamlet where I often think I'd like to live, because it's got a tucked-away church, a farmyard full of stuff and the smell of cow dung is never far from my nostrils.
The sky is a beautiful blue, made even more blue by my camera's new polarising filter, and I am loving the light, the definition in the landscape
Thankfully, Tina Turner has wandered off stage and out of my head (and I say, bloody good riddance, I like you Tina and all that, but, frankly, I'm more of a Nutbush City Limits-type of girl and I Don't Wanna Lose You gets on my nerves). And Leonard Bernstein, with whom I share a birthday, don't you know, floats by on a low, wispy cloud and I hear him singing the words 'there's a place for us' in a very sweet voice and I join him in the harmonies of Somewhere, much to the amusement of a farmer leaning against a gate, who tells me to hurry up along the lane because he wants to move his cattle.
By the time I get up the lane, the cattle are moving themselves, quite happily, across the road. A little red car goes by and the female passenger makes a Wallace face as if to say, 'eek, cows in the road.'
I like cows. If it weren't for the caste system, I often think I should be a Hindu.
I walk down into Lush Places, thinking I am so lucky to live here, in this beautiful part of Dorset where the tourists don't often venture. Not for me the delights of the Jurassic coast and overpriced, ponced-up food that laughs at your gullibility as soon as it arrives on your plate.
I had been planning to go to Thomas Hardy's birth and deathplaces today but then think better of it because it's the start of the Bank Holiday weekend and the A35 will be heaving.
So I put the towels in for a wash and stick my iPod on shuffle. I love music and, besides, Tina Turner has just come back to pay me a visit as I've just I've opened my daughter's giant card which says HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDMA in 72-point typeface.
I want something hopeful ringing in my ears.
I open my friend's card which says If The Music's Too Loud, You're Too Old. It's never too loud for me, which is probably why I have tinnitus.
The iPod shuffle is working its magic. I am so energised by the random things coming through my headphones, I reckon I'm all set for a great day. The first five are How I Got Over By Reef, You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real) by Sylvester, What You're Supposing by Status Quo, Wham and Baby I'm Your Man and then Don't Stop Me Now by Queen.
And then Mr Grigg comes in to the room, overworked and angry after a cock-up by BT and hands me the telephone because he's waiting for a phone call and can I take it (not even a please!). My birthday bubble bursts.
So I take off the headphones and get Lou Bega and Mambo Number 5 coming out of my laptop.
And it was all going so well.
I give it one last go and get Take Me To The Clouds Above by LMC Vs U2.
And then The Liquidator by Harry J All Stars. Things are looking up. But still no call from BT.
I'm reckon I should quit this game of iPod roulette while I'm still ahead.
And then I think, just one more.
I don't believe it.
Love is the Drug.
It ain't no big thing to wait for the bell to ring
It ain't no big thing the toll of the bell
And BT still don't ring.
Then I think, well, one more track won't hurt and Born To Be Wild comes on. That's it, I'm off to get my motor runnin'.
Have a great day, wherever you are.
That's about it.