I was explaining to HRH today that my life pretty much doesn’t exist after July 1. It’s not that I’m booked, it’s just that I’m so focused on July 1 being the deadline for the manuscript, plus my parents will be in town, and I’ll be doing the final concert of the season that night (which is the only reason I will not be downtown at the Jazz Festival listening to Susie Arioli) that it’s the Big Thing I’m Planning For. Only an e-mail from Debra the other day reminded me that I’m camping July 2-5 at Awakening Isis (which was fortunate). It was while I was relating this to him that I realised that I haven’t yet had a birthday this year.

“Yes,” said HRH. “Any idea what you want? People are starting to ask.”

Know what I want? I can’t even remember what day it is, let alone conceive of celebrating the joyous anniversary of my thirty-third year on the planet. And he wants gift suggestions?

So I’ve updated the wish list, for those who need to know. And I s’pose there ought to be a pub night. Don’t ask me when until after July 1, though, okay? Please?