Thirty one years ago this weekend my mother spent several hours in a hallway in a small hospital in Garoka New Guinea bringing me into the world. I wasn’t expected to arrive until a few days later, but the rough trip into Garoka from the station must have convinced us both to get on with things as she’d only been in town a few hours when her water broke. My father, planning to arrive around the expected date, was actually golfing on a makeshift dirt airstrip when I was born.

So, soon to be thirty one years old and on a weekend no less, to celebrate this anniversary, with gratitude to my parents for bringing me up and about, and to thank all my friends for their continued love and support, or at least tolerance, I am inviting all the usual suspects to a Saturday evening BBQ on May the 22nd beginning around six I guess and lasting until whenever everyone leaves (usually three am or so) with plenty of couches etc. should you have been asked to surrender your keys.

Through the cunning use of last minute planning I’m allowing you to wish me well from afar because you have other plans already. Just simply respond to this email with appropriate Hallmark sentiment if you would like to, but if you’d like to drop by I’d love to see you and maybe even feed you. I’ll be making chicken fajitas on the grill for one and all, but any contributions of related food or funds will be welcome (Sandy’s got the potato salad covered). The grill will be hot for quite some time, so if fajitas aren’t your bag then bring what you like and we’ll cook it.

Far from the mountains of the highlands of Papua New Guinea, with not an airstrip in sight, my golf score from the front nine at the Sycamore course in the Ozarks last weekend was a 61 – some twenty odd strokes over par at least, but I’m working on it dad, I’m working on it all.