Yesterday witnessed the birthday of one GJ Strachan from Wakefield parish. A low-key day celebration wise seeing the hirsute mischief maker attend an online working group, embark on a shopping centre visit, along with an afternoon at the park with his beau, her grandson and dog.
My evening at home was quiet, watching YouTube clips while eating tapas and quaffing a rather splendid red wine gifted by my brother Ian. This undertaken on my tod; my partner (Sarah) and I choosing to celebrate the occasion with a meal out on Saturday evening instead of a ‘school night’ for her. The buxom West Yorkshire wench promising to treat me to a meal in Leeds city centre.
The venue for Saturday’s culinary treat a new bistro called Pot Noodle World. An upmarket restaurant where chefs cook the meal at your table… Well, that’s if dowsing dry pot-based noodles with boiling water in front of you, and stirring, can be classed as cooking a dish at your table.
Sarah swears by the quality of cuisine served there. Although, if truth be told, the foul-mouthed Ossett lass swears by most things; including in the company of vicars, quakers, rabbis, Mormons and anyone called Albert.
Her mum, Judith, introducing Sazza to the wonders of Pot Noodle World after former favourite eatery Findus Crispy Pancake Hut shut down in January. The inaugural month of 2024 a terrible time for Sarah’s mater; the matriarch irked further during this time after testing positive for being negative.
Yesterday’s visit to a Leeds retail outlet was necessitated by a need to swap t-shirts Sarah bequeathed for my birthday. Despite my insistence I take an XL size in SuperDry tees she decided to ignore the instruction, instead buying me garments an Action Man doll would have struggled to fit into.
Do not get me wrong, though, I fully appreciate the Ossett lass’s generosity. After all, the retailer in questions wares are expensive, and probably explain why she can only afford to take me to Pot Noodle World for my birthday meal.
It’s gotta be said, as middle age engulfs me like a Venus Fly Trap snares a Diptera, birthdays hold very little in the way of celebration these days. From a gift perspective, yours truly is in a lucky position whereby there’s nothing I really need… Well, nothing you can purchase or I really desire, like a caviar flavoured Pot Noodle, or a politician with a conscience.
That being said, I did receive some lovely presents from family and friends. Among this benevolence, Sarah gifting several items of expensive clothing, my siblings sending wine and craft ale gifts, and my son expending clothes and ‘smellies’.
I am still awaiting some gifts, such as my daughter’s contribution to her dad’s present pot. Something which will be rectified on Sunday when she takes me for lunch at Garforth’s Pek Chop Pork Emporium.
Sarah’s son-in-law Simon, with whom I have a reciprocal piss-taking relationship, has yet to provide his contribution marking the anniversary of my birth… Well, unless his present was the text sent at 8.34am yesterday stating “Happy Birthday, you old b*st*rd!”
Anyhow, despite the low-key nature of yesterday’s birthday, I was moved by the cards, gifts, and numerous social media well-wishes I received to mark the day… Thank you, it means a lot!
