Half Century, Not Out

Now that four months have passed, I am sufficiently recovered from the shock to report that I reached, passed, enjoyed - and indeed continue to enjoy - my fiftieth birthday in September. Fifty years! I am, give or take, the same age as Pizza Express, Pink Floyd, Asda Supermarkets, the use of the f-word on the BBC, and The Sound of Music. On the day itself, Helen took me to lunch at El Cartel, a splendid wee Mexican street food eatery with margaritas on tap and splendid food. The following weekend, the Edinburgh Millars assembled for a wee jog up Arthur's Seat, there to gaze upon the city that has been my home these five decades, then down to the Sheep Heid Inn in Duddingston for a bit of beer-fuelled skittles and more grub.