Pecuniary dire straits meant that at an early stage I was forced to go out and work in order to fund my mother’s Marks & Spencer habit. When I was six months old I was giving the choice of either working as a chimney-sweep, or freelancing as a journalist. Being unable to walk I chose the latter option. In this picture we see an article about obesity in small infants which my father forced me to screw up and start again because of misuse of the semi-colon.
Today I am 31 and can still not peel my own oranges properly but on the plus side I wake up wanting to go to work, which is a rare gift indeed.
Mum, re. the marriage and grandkids situation, I promise you I’m working on it.

7 Replies to “31”

  1. As I remember things and as your look of wary defiance demonstrates, it was your father’s efforts you were screwing up; it was years before you found out what semi-colons were, let alone screwed up your own. What *is* it with you and oranges? Happy Birthday, Kid!

  2. i love the kid pics of you. they all have the exact same expression, which u usually still sport. they also make me want to buy some of your ova. so cute!

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