Well, technically her birthday was earlier in the week, but that’s no good for celebrations, so she came over this weekend, arriving with Dan on Friday evening and staying right through.

So, Friday night I knocked off 10 minutes early and headed to the station to find all the trains delayed and full. Not entirely surprising: it’s a theme that’s been developing over time. Two hours later I got home - beating them by the time it takes to gulp down half a gin.

It was such a lazy, decadent weekend. Friday night was given over to a huge, big dinner and then flopping down in the lounge feeling too stuffed to move. Sal’s technically eating for two now, and it’s starting to show, but none of the rest of us had any excuse.

Saturday, we were hardly any better behaved. After a more than healthy breakfast, we all went our separate ways for a while, and I faffed on some more with the pinhole photography I’m trying to get a grip of. All the stuff I’ve been reading online says that your photos should be perfectly in focus with an infinite depth of field, but the best I can manage are easily identifiable, yet distinctly wooly renditions of models, eggs and the woods up the road.

I’m quite heartened to see that every site showing you how to make a pinhole lens for your digital SLR - what I’m doing - also illustrates the technique with equally fluffy results, but I can’t work out what isn’t quite right. I’m fairly sure it’s the right size, so I can only guess the needles and pins I’ve been using to pierce a succession of holes aren’t entirely round, and they’re causing the light to spill in at odd angles.

Anyhow, I gave up in time for us all to sit down to eat again - lunch this time - and then we spent the afternoon sitting down watching The Incredibles until it was time to go out and eat. The best fish pie in the world, in my case. Some apparently excellent chicken and steak where everyone else was concerned.

Fortunately, on Sunday, I half redeemed myself, heading out after breakfast (another meal) to hunt treasure with Rich. So, I packed my rucksack with the GPS gadget and a sheet of clues and we walked out on a multi-cache that we’d given up on a few weeks ago. We did quite well this time around. There were fifteen clues in total - or thereabouts - and by my reckoning we were spot on for 13 of them, despite the gadget’s tendency to spin around in seemingly random directions and throw us off course for 200 metres or more.

By the time we got well and truly lost on clue 13, though, it was already getting dark. The cars had their headlights on, the streets were lit a dim orange, and out fingers were blue and stiff from the cold, so we retreated indoors to drink tea and watch movies.

I’d forgotten quite how slow The Living Daylights is. It’s definitely the better of Dalton’s two Bond efforts, but it’s 30 minutes longer than the storyline justifies. Of course, that’s not his fault, but it does cement his position as my least favourite Bond lead.

If all goes to plan, Thursday night should be Casino Royale night. Going on what I’ve heard from all those who have already seen it, I don’t think it’ll have too much effect on Mr Dalton’s current rank.

1. Dad’s birthday
   Fortunately Sal and Dan were late. They got stuck in traffic, as they do every time they come back to Essex. That gave me plenty...
   
   
2. Ystabub’s birthday
   Ystabub is thirty five. It hardly seems possible that it is five years since his party at the theatre, where we all disappeared behind the...
   
   
3. End of my birthday
   Somehow - and I don't think anyone knows how - London Underground managed to derail two of its tube trains over the weekend. Two! One...