I was going to write about the joy of catching up with friends at a recent – significant- birthday party, where many well kent faces were to be seen.

However, a select group of readers will be disappointed if I do not elaborate on a Luckydog moment from the preparations. [ People do insist that I should add further verses to “the song” #, or compose a follow up, presumably; “Still not dead yet…”##].

Our dear friend celebrating his “Diamond jubilee” is a die hard football fan, so we were delighted to source a 60 year old programme from a match only days after his birth (by a wild chance , his father, also a lifelong fan, believes he was actually at the match!).

The plan was to place this token of our esteem in a largish frame, then all sign (around it)in the manner of a birthday card. I had some thoughts of a pithy “salutation”.

-…also still top division-

-Happy Bud-day- (there is a Paisley connection)

-60 and still going strong….

Now the “all” involved here are quite disparate, so several absent friends had to be signed for, and this task, along with the frame/mount and (team strip) background fell to me.

As a number of people would be present on the day, but not before, the item could not be finished untill then. In consequence it spent some days on my table in a state of part assembly, being moved with exquisite care away from mess, paint, ink, food and usually, me.

On the day, I had to bring it – still incomplete – to a pre party lunch where remaining conspiritors could sign. Transported in an unsealed envelope of wrapping, with several, extensively practised, forgeries for absent friends. I was not altogether happy when it was suggested that I bring it to the food table for completion. I did not want anything to get wet or smudged.

“Is the table dry, is it clean? Is it…safe?”” and I scrutinise the surface with uncharacteristic diligence.

“Say” (said someone helpfully) ” Why is that signature all runny?”

There is an episode of Tom and Jerry- probably more than one – where Tom is tasked with keeping Spikes son clean. Of course Jerry does his utmost to create mess, but in the end Tom winds up sitting beside a spotless pup, on the front porch, just waiting for Spikes return.

A bottle of ink, recently confiscated from Jerry, he throws away, but in a mousetrap like sequence it rolls back and empties all over the pup. Tom, oblivious, is watching for Jerry, and sees Spike in the distance. The ink, seeping outward, reaches Tom, who senses the wet, tests it with a paw, now smeared with ink, and looks, for the first time, at Spikes son.

That was me.

There was (thankfully) time to replace everything, although it all had to be done playing the “Dick Barton, Special Agent Theme”.

I only cut myself twice on the glass – barely worth mentioning, but hugely inconvenient if you don’t want blood on anything.

I hope you’re all happy now (you know who you are…).

Next week on IaDL; Nightshift!!!

#Ballad of Lucky Dog

##Likely my next gig title