The rule came in the year I turned eight and our cat, Princess Margaret, was killed by Bob the washing machine repairman on my real birthday, crushing any thoughts of a celebration and sending Bob into a deep depression. Our lovely old puss and her namesake had both lived long and prosperously, but in the end, they paid the price for their penchant for the good life. In feline Margaret’s case, it wasn’t cigarettes and top-shelf booze that got her, but the fact she never could resist a warm spot on a white van man’s engine block.

A week later, despite the ongoing laundry crisis, my parents pulled together what turned out to be the best birthday I’d ever had. Replacement Day became a Mulberry family tradition from that day forward, declared for various reasons, and possibly not implemented as moderately as it should have been. I like to think both Margarets would have approved, though.

Having spent the morning of my thirty-ninth birthday explaining myself down at the Camden police station, and the afternoon explaining myself to Dom and George, three days later I was inspired to bring my father’s ruling out of mothballs. Because I felt like I deserved it and, also, Friday happy hour at the Lamb and Flag is a very high-return investment. Not that I really need a special occasion to take up the offer of drinking twice as much beer for half as much money.

I used the first half of my replacement birthday to make a start on digging a vegetable patch in Dom’s back garden, in response to a ‘get in touch with nature’ suggestion in chapter one of his very thoughtful birthday present: a book called Nature, Nurture and Nachos. The author claimed he could help you break the bad habits of a lifetime in just a few easy steps, so I’d decided to take him up on it. Also, I’d been promising to do something constructive in Dom’s garden for the past nine months, other than wee on his roses, which he refused to accept as a legitimate contribution.

Dr Adam Spooner (PhD, MD, FRCS, B.Soc, Bach Total BS) suggested that in order to ‘go deep’ in terms of setting your aspirational life path goals (that’s a direct quote from the good doctor, so hold fire on the messenger), the first relationship you have to take care of (the nurture, presumably) is the one with yourself. And apparently bumbling around in the garden with your hands in the dirt is the best way of doing that (the nature, obviously). I wondered what his thoughts would be on someone who actually lived in a garden.

Always be in the moment! Stay mindful! Set your goals! the handsome Dr Spooner advised on page two, and pretty much every page after that. My only goal was to make it to chapter four when, according to the table of contents, the nachos were due to make an appearance. Something that seemed much more my cup of tea.