Birthday Boy

Well folks, it’s that time of year again – another birthday on Saturday October 8th.

I’ve had 53 of these buggers before and this will obviously be my 54th – and to be honest I’ve stopped counting them or getting excited by them – mainly because I know that there won’t be another 54 of them. It would be nice, but I might not remember who I am or what I am supposed to be doing.

So what am I doing for my 54th birthday?

Mrs PM is taking me down to Chipping Camden in the Cotswold’s for a relaxing weekend, walking in the wonderful English countryside, sampling excellent British food and supping British ale (or maybe a continental lager or two too).

I might even treat myself to something nice.

I will try to enjoy my birthday – honestly. Mind you, it’s a struggle. But it is another year, another year older and a little closer to 60 years old. The good thing is that I am also a lot closer to retirement too, which I am really looking forward too, although in reality I have to wait another ten to twelve years before I can finally kick my job into touch.

I keep asking Mrs PM if she will let me retire soon and look after me – but she refuses telling me that I am in the prime of my life and look like a 44 year old. “Why retire?” she asks me.

She doesn’t understand.

Anyway, enough of this nonsense.

I’ll leave you with a few rock songs from my six decades so far. I love these songs and they would be great at a party!

 I hope you enjoy them.

See you on the other side of 54.

1960’s – Led Zeppelin – Whole Lotta Love

 

 1970’s – Sparks – This Town Ain’t Big Enough For Both Of Us

 

 1980’s – Aerosmith – Rag Doll



 

1990’s – Rammstein – Du Hast

 

 2000’s – Devin Townsend Project – Bend It Like Bender

 

 2010’s – Nine Inch Nails – Copy Of A

 

Half Century

I’ve been keeping a secret.

It wasn’t really that much of a secret because most people knew about it. I was just relying on the fact that they might forget.

I can now reveal the secret.

On October 8th 2012, I turned 50.

Why did I keep it a secret? The reason is that I really feel uncomfortable being the centre of attention and I really didn’t want an over the top celebration. Mrs PM was under orders not to throw a surprise party or organise anything without consulting me first.

But now, almost a month later, I can and will reveal my age, though regular readers may have guessed anyway.

As I enter my sixth decade I can look back at my life so far with some satisfaction, a little sadness, a little regret, a fair amount of embarrassment but, ultimately, a feeling of total and utter contentment.

Because 2012 was a milestone year, I took a look back through my life in January accompanied by a soundtrack of music that has been quite special, in a series of blog posts, one a day. I recently read some of that back and was quite surprised by how open I was.

Maybe twenty or even ten years ago, I would never have dreamed of doing that. The fact that I feel comfortable and satisfied with my first fifty years has led me to open up to the world a lot more. Or perhaps it’s just age; my addled brain no longer cares about how people react to me any more.

I have to say that although I tried to keep my birthday low key, I didn’t get away with it totally without embarrassment.

A good mate of mine, also called Dave, was 50 in September, and it seemed like a great idea to go away for a long weekend as a joint celebration. We did something similar when we were both 40. On that occasion, we were still clinging on to stupid youth and, together with six other lads, took a trip to Madrid where we ate, drank and generally over-indulged. I think at the end of that particular trip, I realised that I was getting old.

For our 50th birthday, Dave and I opted for Rome and, again, eight of us took the short trip across Europe to one of the most beautiful cities in the world. This time, however, we took our better halves, and the eight lads out for a good time became four lads and their wives/partners, for a weekend of good food, great sight-seeing and, of course, a modicum of beer and wine.

The couples were PM and Mrs PM, Dave and Shelagh, Ian and Chris and, last but not least, Nigel and Janet.

However, because women were involved, they weren’t going to let Dave and I get away with a quiet weekend.

We flew from Manchester at around 9 am. As I sat listening to my iPod, I noticed a stewardess walking down with a bottle of champagne.

“Bloody Hell,” I thought. “What pissheads have ordered champagne at this time of morning?”

Imagine how mortified I was when the stewardess stopped at our row handed over the champagne to me and said “Happy Birthday, Mr Mancunian. Shall I get some glasses?”

Here are photos of Mrs PM, Chris and I enjoying champagne at stupid o’clock, with Dave and Shelagh also joining in.

We arrived in Rome and spent the first day strolling around and embracing the beauty of some of the wonderful sights of Rome – like the Spanish Steps, Trevi Fountain, Parthenon and Piazza Navona:

In the evening, in a pizza restaurant, we were joined by two more companions: Arthur and Eric. Here is Eric with Dave:

And here is Arthur, meeting Eric across the table.

Yes, Dave and I were made to carry rubber chickens with us for the remainder of the trip. Sadly, Arthur, my rubber chicken, lost his squeak after a drunken altercation with Nigel and felt too unwell to enjoy the whole trip.

On the next day, we visited the Vatican Museum and St Peter’s Basilica:

In the evening, unbeknownst to Dave and I, the girls had booked an evening meal in a restaurant and we were both forced to wear badges:

We had to wear them for the rest of the evening.

On our penultimate day, we visited the Colosseum and Forum, with Eric, before the girls went shopping and the boys enjoyed a football match in an Irish Bar:

At the start of that day, Mrs PM and I were getting ready and but I failed to notice the image emblazoned across her top. It was only when we met the other girls that I noticed. Why? Because this was what they were wearing:

I actually got into trouble for not noticing. If you can’t see the picture, it is an image of Dave and I, presumably slightly the worst for wear, with our arm round each other enclosed in a heart, with the caption Happy 50th BirthdayYou Old Gits.

As flattering as it may seem, it was also highly embarrassing and noticed by quite a few people as we wandered around ancient monuments.

Thankfully, that was the only trauma I had to endure and no other surprises appeared.

Here's a picture of everyone in the evening of the last day:

I'm missing, of course - I was taking the photo.

And now I am 50. It sounds really weird to be honest and when I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see a 50 year old staring back. I see the 15 year old child, the 21 year old man, the 30 year old settling down and the 40 year old, shocked at becoming an old man.

You see, turning 40 was a big deal for me; I fretted as I stepped over the line from 39 to 40, thinking that my youth had gone and part of me had faded away. Acceptance came a year or two later and now, I am happy.

Passing the 50 barrier has caused no additional distress or suffering and I am quite happy to be where I am today.

There is something I have come to realise. Inside my head I am still a teenager.

And I love that.

I hope that feeling stays for the next 50 years because, dear reader, I plan to live forever.

Well – you can dream can’t you?

48 Not Out

Friday 8th October is my birthday – I am 48 years old.

What an old git I am!

I have been wondering what to post about this particular birthday.

I could complain about how bits are drooping, how my dreadful hair is cranking up a gear to annoy me further by turning grey etc. but instead I have decided to have a bit of fun.

I dumped my date of birth into a couple of horoscope web sites to find out what makes me tick. Here are some of the results with my comments.

Your date of conception was on or about 15 January 1962 which was a Monday.

That’s a little too much information, thanks. An image has formed in my mind now that will probably haunt me for a few years.

You were born on a Monday under the astrological sign Libra.

I know that I am a Libran – a typical one according to Mrs PM (who says that I am the most indecisive person she knows). Whatever the negative aspects of my star sign are, I am happy that Librans are considered to be almost perfect. Librans are wonderful, friendly and intelligent people and loved by every other jealous star sign. We are also arrogant, conceited gits.

Or are we?

Talking of horoscopes, I also stumbled across this “dark horoscope” which basically tells me what is wrong with me as a Libran. Sadly, it confirms my worst fears – I am an indecisive old grump

Your inability to reach a decision in matters of personal action is legendary. You like to weigh all the alternatives and hear every side of an argument - but this may take time and opportunities may pass you by because of it. You also like to expand energy on people who may not deserve it. You want to help the underdog. You are also sensitive to criticism and may take mild statements of fact very personally.

Advice: Follow your instincts and act on them - stop sitting on fences. Don't blindly trust people; learn to be a little more discriminating in your offers of help. Learn to think for yourself and don't be swayed by persuasive tongues.

Crikey – should I follow that advice? I might if I believed the crap above it. I am indecisive, I have no doubt about that, but I think that is a good thing. Agonising over which gadget to buy, for example, usually bears fruit. And I think my choices have usually been great in other fields – so drop THAT in your toilet and flush it.

Your Life path number is 9.

I have absolutely no idea what this means. Maybe I have the mind of a 9 year old child?

Your fortune cookie reads: Your skill will accomplish what the force of many cannot.

Well that’s a load of old cobblers. I’m not James Bond or Rambo.

Your Life Path Compatibility:

You are most compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 3, 6 & 9.

You should get along well with those with the Life Path numbers 1 & 5.

You may or may not get along well with those with the Life Path numbers 2, 7 & 11.

You are least compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 4, 8 & 22.

I checked Mrs PM’s life path number and hers is 7. What does that mean – you may or may not get on well with the Life Path numbers 2,7 &11? It’s like saying “You may or may not be a woman”. Utter balderdash.

Your birthday falls into the Chinese year beginning 2/5/1962 and ending 1/24/1963. You were born in the Chinese year of the Tiger.

Many women have said to me “Hello, Tiger.”

Anyway, enough of that bollocks. Here are some more interesting facts about my birthday.

I share the same birthday as Matt Damon. People often mix the two of us up, and it’s rather annoying having to sign yet another “Jason Bourne” autograph.

I also share my birthday with Sigourney Weaver, alien fighter extraordinaire, and Paul Hogan, aka Crocodile Dundee himself.

I am also thankful that in dog years I am still under 7, which means that should I desire, I still have the energy to run around chasing cats and my tail (the latter of which I frequently do at work).

My lucky day is Friday – which is also the day of my 48th birthday – therefore I should have a lucky day (in theory). Lottery win this weekend?

My lucky number is 6, which some would say is also my mental age.

In terms of planets, I am ruled by Venus – which means I’m HOT, baby!!

I’m sorry about that last bit – I came over all Austin Powers for a second.

So who else is 48? I’ve had a poke around and discovered that the following celebrities are the same age as me:

Axl Rose, Amanda Donahoe, Cal Smillie, Carol Vorderman, Eddie Izzard, Emilio Estevez, Izzy Stradlin, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Jon Bon Jovi, k.d. Lang, Martin Clunes, Meg Ryan, Paula Abdul, Steve Carell and Tom Cruise.

So I’m not doing bad, am I?

I’ll finish off with three facts that nobody knows about me. Here they are (and don’t laugh):

FACT ONE: I WAS BRAD PITT’S STUNTMAN

You can surely see the resemblance between Brad and myself:


I was only the stunt double in one film and sadly it wasn’t Mr and Mrs Smith (as if he needed any help with Angelina Jolie).

No – I am afraid it was The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and here I am:


FACT TWO: I WAS THE THIRD PROCLAIMER


My wonderful singing voice was appreciated by the Scottish duo but unfortunately I couldn’t quite pull off the Scottish accent. They were cruel and they sacked me, even though I wrote thirty songs for them.

Follow the links and look at these songs:

Letter From America

500 Miles

I'm On My Way

I didn’t write any of those.

Still, you can't help but like The Proclaimers - and I'm not saying that because I look like them.

I love the mantra "I'm on my way from misery to happiness today" - that's something I wish I really had written. I love the sentiment of that song.

FACT THREE: I AM THE STIG


Ignore Ben Collins; his claim to be Top Gear’s The Stig is utter bunkum.

I can reveal that I, the Plastic Mancunian, am the man behind the helmet. Here I am in action:



I don’t like scouts:



I have never crashed a car:



FACT FOUR: I AM A LIAR

Yes – the above three facts are utter bollocks.

The only truth is that I am 48 years old.

But you knew that anyway.

Happy Birthday Mrs PM

Mrs PM reaches a marvellous milestone tomorrow (18th August); she is forty years old.

I have already mentioned that she is slightly traumatised by the prospect of turning forty, despite my attempts to convince her that it she is still a child (well compared to me anyway).

I have said before that I simply do not understand why it is such a problem – I mean look at me!! It’s only a couple of years until I am fifty and my hair is starting to go grey. You don’t see me moaning and moping.

I’m sure she will get over it and, like me, she will embrace her age and enjoy it.

Mrs PM shares her birthday with Edward Norton, Robert Redford, Christian Slater and Malcolm-Jamal Walker (the latter being born in the same year).

To celebrate her birthday, I have compiled a series of facts about my beloved lady, one for each year of her life.

Without further ado, I present for your reading pleasure, forty facts about Mrs PM.

(1) Mrs PM’s real name is Lisa, a name she loves. Sadly, I am an immature buffoon and love calling her derivatives of her name – like Betty, Beth, Betsy or Elizabeth. Sadly I suffer pain as a result.

(2) She is from Blackpool, a seaside resort in the North West of England famous for its tower. Again Mrs PM is very proud of her home town. On a trip to Shanghai, we climbed up the Pearl Tower (not literally obviously) and as I was squeaking with fear and ready to explode from all orifices, Mrs PM pointed to a display that mentioned other towers. Guess what? Blackpool Tower was there even though it is tiny in comparison.

(3) Mrs PM hates football but has suddenly found an interest in the sport – because her home town team, Blackpool, are now in the Premiership (although they will be absolutely destroyed by all clubs they play). I actually caught her listening to live commentary on Radio Five Live on Saturday – something she has never ever done before. And Blackpool handed her the perfect birthday present by winning 4-0 against Wigan away. It is all downhill from here.

(4) Like me, Mrs PM is a seasoned traveller and has visited similar countries to me. We are both visiting Iceland on Friday this week, a country neither of us has been to before. It is my treat for her birthday. We are looking forward to it, although I believe that it is very expensive. I will say hello to Eyjafjallajökull for you and ask it stop erupting.

(5) Mrs PM and I have been together since 1998. She has had to put up with me for almost twelve years. She obviously has a lot of staying power.

(6) Lisa is a Leo and is convinced that she possesses all of the personality traits of the rest of the twelfth of the world population that share her star sign. I am a Libran and apparently Librans and Leos are ideally matched, which is lucky I guess. Our relationship consists of me trying to stop her from being impulsive. I am careful by nature (she uses the word “indecisive” instead of “careful”) so I try to rein her in sometimes. I don’t always succeed and end up on the top of places like the Sydney Harbour Bridge in a stupid suit absolutely shitting my pants.

(7) Mrs PM has bad taste in men. Why else would she choose me?

(8) Mrs PM’s taste in music is utterly, utterly dreadful. She loves the Black Eyed Peas, Lady Ga Ga and all sorts of similar crap.

(9) Mrs PM hates my music so you can imagine the battles we have (Rammstein versus Madonna for example).

(10) Lisa has seen a few big acts live like Madonna and the Black Eyed Peas. She wasn’t impressed with Madonna and paid over £100 to see her. I would have gone out of curiosity but chose to spend the £100 on several decent CDs instead.

(11) Mrs PM can speak French almost fluently (though she claims to be rusty). I have seen her hold a conversation in France and she doesn’t sound rusty to me. She sounds extremely sexy when she chats in French even if she is insulting me.

(12) Mrs PM can also speak a little Spanish. With my German we have a lot of Europe covered (though my German is crap).

(13) We met in Hong Kong – hence it is our favourite city in the world. We always stop off there if we are heading in that direction to visit old haunts and reminisce about our early relationship. We plan to head east on my fiftieth birthday and no doubt we will stop off there on our way.

(14) Mrs PM used to be short sighted but she is not squeamish about eyes and had the eye-butchers laser her eyes into submission. She can see perfectly now. I am too much of a coward to even go near to the place.

(15) Mrs PM shares my passion for science fiction – she is a geek (by her own admission).

(16) She has a degree from the University of Liverpool, just like me. However, we attended university at different times so never actually met there. Bizarrely we even had some of the same lecturers.

(17) Mrs PM works in IT doing a similar job to me but for a different company. We have been known to sit in a pub discussing the merits of databases, programming languages and operating systems, oblivious to the fact that people might be watching and thinking that we are the saddest individuals on the entire planet.

(18) Lisa is a very good photographer and my own ability to take decent pictures has improved as a result of her coaching. She took a course and has produced some great pictures. She was responsible for making me dress up like Gene Simmons. Here are some photos you may not have seen – and yes they are all me and all taken by Mrs PM. She also did all of the make up – and, despite claiming to hate my old leather jacket, she made me wear it (she LOVES it really).






(19) Mrs PM likes to experiment when cooking – she uses me as a guinea pig and apart from the odd disaster she usually pulls it off.

(20) She loves going out for meals and “having a boogie”. Unfortunately “having a boogie” invariably involves dragging me up onto the dance floor to strut my funky stuff to songs like this. I am usually surrounded by lots of attractive young women at the time, even though I look like a mad uncle dancing at a wedding.

(21) Mrs PM is an only child.

(22) She lived in Toulouse, France, for a year and when she speaks French, people say she has a Toulouse accent.

(23) Cats are her favourite animal by a country mile. I reckon that if I agreed we would have an army of cats in our house. Instead we have just the two and she absolutely dotes on them. I am convinced that I am bottom of the pecking order.

(24) I am in awe of her intelligence. Mrs PM is far cleverer than I am.

(25) She is far more adventurous than me and I have suffered as a result of her daring behaviour. As I said earlier she has dragged me kicking and screaming to the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and other enormous leviathans like the Eiffel Tower.

(26) I sometimes call Mrs PM Tonto because although she is highly intelligent, she is one of the most scatterbrained people I know. Tonto was the Lone Ranger's faithful companion and could guide him anywhere with his excellent sense of direction and tracking skills. Mrs PM on the other hand is the complete opposite and has managed to get us lost on numerous occasions. “I know where I’m going” she will cry confidently, just before leading us into oblivion. She frequently has what she calls “Lisa moments” when she gets lost, forgets something, loses something or all three. I will one day compile a list of “Lisa moments” for a future blog post – and I can guarantee that you won’t believe a word of it.

(27) She has several names for me, one of which is her “public term of endearment”. Inspired by my crazy hair, she calls me Flossy much to the amusement of friends. Another name is Wavy Davy, again a reference to my horrific hair. Yet she won’t let me cut it all off.

(28) Her eyes are green and very sexy.

(29) Although I am accused of snoring, I can confirm that Mrs PM is the loudest snorer in the world. When our fat cat is asleep at the bottom of the bed I simply cannot sleep due to excessively loud close harmony snoring.

(30) She doesn’t mind being “fashionably” late (unlike me).

(31) My two lads love Mrs PM because she jokes around with them almost as much as I do. We usually have “lads versus girl” discussions and gang up on her. It’s all good fun.

(32) Her favourite TV programmes at the moment include Casualty, Mistresses, Desperate Housewives and Fringe. She is also, like me, a fan of Star Trek, Dr Who and Lost.

(33) White wine is Mrs PM’s favourite tipple but she also drinks red wine, beer and the odd cocktail. She has been known to get drunk once in a while (though usually I am equally inebriated).

(34) Mrs PM claims to be shy but is usually the life and soul of any party. I simply cannot believe that she thinks she is shy.

(35) She gets a kick out of embarrassing me in public. The more people there the more humiliating she can be.

(36) Spiders terrify Mrs PM which is bad news when one appears because I have to get rid of the thing – and I am scared of them too.

(37) Her ideal man, apparently, is Antonio Banderas, a man who is the total opposite of me in every respect. He is a ruggedly handsome Hispanic type who smoulders onscreen and who only has to say “Hello – my name is Zorro” to make women swoon in a fit of ecstasy. I on the other hand am a mad-haired Viking with the charm and sophistication of a warthog who only makes women swoon when I show them a recording of Banderas talking. I’m convinced that Mrs PM sniffs glue sometimes.

(38) Mrs PM is very ticklish – and I mean VERY VERY ticklish. Just gently stroking her hand can make her laugh. You can imagine what happens when I really go for it; she transforms into a gibbering giggling wreck. I don’t tickle her often – just once or twice an hour.

(39) Despite hating rock music, for some insane reason she actually likes this song. She also recently admitted that AC/DC were “not that bad”. I think my brainwashing attempts are working.

(40) Mrs PM loves horror films but they scare the sanity out of her. If we watch a horror film you can guarantee that she will have nightmares unless she spends at least two hours actively thinking about something else – unless I casually remind her just as she is about to go to sleep.

I hope you found those facts interesting and perhaps it gives you a picture of the woman I love. She is a wonderful person and I am crazy about her.

I will finish off by posting a photo of myself (sans makeup) and Lisa, taken last Saturday in a bar in Manchester where we were out celebrating her birthday with family and a few friends.



Happy fortieth birthday Lisa and thanks for putting up with me.

Life begins now …

Birthday Rock

Well, another year passes by. I am 47 years old tomorrow (8th October).

What’s worrying is that years seem to be flying by in an absolute blur at the moment; it was only yesterday that I was coping with the depression of turning 40. Now, seven years later, I find that I am only three years away from another bloody milestone.

I need to have a word with somebody about this – stop this bloody ageing process and let me go back to being 30 again.

Anyway, no use moping in a stew of gloominess – I am nothing if not optimistic.

I’ve decided to blast away my blues with a feast of hard rock and heavy metal. Below are 20 headbangers and fist-clenchers, many of which I have humiliated myself to in the car, on aircraft, in supermarkets and just about everywhere I’ve ever been with my mp3 player and the 5000 plus songs I have on there.

But who cares? I don’t – if music can’t be enjoyed in public then there is something wrong..

For those of you who loathe all things rock, there is a nice mellow tune at the end.

If you choose to visit the links, please think of me as you are assaulted by sonic perfection.

1. Blue Murder – We All Fall Down
2. Def Leppard – Go
3. The Hives – Tick Tick Boom
4. Iron Maiden – Where Eagles Dare
5. Judas Priest – Painkiller
6. Alice Cooper – Brutal Planet
7. Evanescence – Going Under
8. Marilyn Manson – The Fight Song
9. Metallica – Whiplash
10. Motörhead – Bomber
11. Muse – Knights Of Cydonia
12. Korn – Coming Undone
13. Nine Inch Nails – The Hand That Feeds
14. Rammstein – Links 2 3 4
15. Ten – Thunder In Heaven
16. The Wildhearts – Anthem
17. Joe Satriani – Crystal Planet
18. Nazareth – No Mean City
19. Motley Crue – Kickstart My Heart
20. Gary Moore – Over The Hills And Far Away

And here’s something to calm you down after all that rock:

Air – Space Maker

50? Bring it on!!!