Happy Birthday Brian Pigeon
Now this is a fact I like to keep quiet, particularly in my advancing years, but it was my birthday a couple of days ago. Oh yes. Up until Facebook, no-one knew. Sadly, since I filled in my details including the date of my birth, suddenly word spread and before I knew it, every pigeon I passed was going: ‘Happy Birthday, mate’. Unbelievable. Pigeons I’d never heard of telling me to have a great day. As it happens, I did, hence the three day gap between birthday celebrations and posting.
You see, on the whole, we pigeons don’t give a flying fuck when our birthdays are. In fact, we go all out to positively ignore them. Partying can happen at any time on any day. Fact. If the opportunity arises and there’s a party to be had, a party we will have.
Another fact is that pigeons really don’t like to be reminded of how old they are. Time flies quickly enough without the greetings.
Anyway, rant over, like I say – I had a good day. Hung out with mates. Loads of them. Hit The Square around midday and pretty much did nothing else. Found a spinny around 2, and we were off. Not sure what it was, but it tasted good. Head went straight away, followed pretty soon after by the legs, in quite a big way. Happened to almost all of us, apart from Mart, but I don’t think he drank it as quickly as the rest of us. So – that was that. Not sure how long we were like that for. No-one does. Later on we did the same thing all over again in Soho Square. Blinding day, literally.
Then I log on tonight, finally, and check this out. Someone made me a cake, stuck an edible photo of me on it, and sent me a pic.
Cheers, Steve! Nice one pal.
So that’s that for another year, thank fuck.