Merry Birthmas to me. Merry Birthmas to you.

Quiet conversation floated agreeably across the balmy Sunday afternoon air. The decorous hum was occasionally punctuated with a cry from The Patented Burp.

"Put that in your blog and smoke it!"

Then she'd fling another champagne down her throat.

Later on, noticing that the wine was losing its chill, she tottered inside, went straight past the fridge and attempted to return the bottle to the empty space behind the lounge room door.

See, I do take advice.