My little gal is ten...
And I feel as wrinkled as a hen...
And I I remember when
She was as tiny as a grain of rice and as delicate as a little wren.

Anyway. Here's the story of Mols birthday party on Tuesday. 

...so...
We rock up to the cafe (up in London, for the crack) where I'd booked tea for Mols birthday, and there's a frickin' film crew in our space taking up our places... Lights and cameras and cables and all that rubbish.
None too pleased, thinking I have 6 children to feed and water, and a couple of old-parentals too, I'm stormy faced with the barman, and a bit like 'but I BOOKED this...?'...

The Producer appears, a sweet smily lady in flat shoes...
'I'm soooo sorry, we should be finished in 15mins, please have a drink on us, I've got a tab running...We know it's your daughters 10th birthday, I feel so bad... but you know the problem is Tom was running late and...'
I'm like ok - yadda yadda enough of the blurb, cheers, but ok, so order copious hot chocolates & lemonades & a bottle of wine, and some beer and see if I can book a holiday whilst they're not looking, etc.

Then I peer around the corner to see the lights shining on this bearded grey haired man... Hmmmm. I recognise him...

'Yeah, sorry, Tom was held up in Arsenal traffic... ' says obliging producer paying for our drinks (and summer holiday)...

Small lightbulb clicks in my head.
Ah, Tom. Grey hair. Bearded. The look of a legend about him...
As in...
Jones.

(I sneak a glance at the Grandmother to check she's not about to have a hot flush and throw underwear about the bar, but she's taken underwhelmed position...)

And then...
So the woman who is interviewing him (Cerys Matthews, Cattationia, with a fine head of hair) pulls out a small guitar from under the table and starts to strum a few chords.

And the producer comes up to me and pol and says...
"Oh, listen I think he's going to sing..."

So we stand in the door way and swizzle our ears Tom-wards. It's kind of fun being so close, I guess.

Tom the bearded wonder looks up and asks Mol 'what's your name?' Mol squirms, "Mol mumble mumble",
'What?'
"Mol, mumble squirm".

And, oh, this is a familiar tune I think...
Hmmm v familiar...

And, oh, this is BRILLIANT!! TOM JONES strikes up a jolly rendition of Happy Birthday to Mol, guitar Cerys Matthews!

Well. That's quite good. Even I couldn't pretend to be cool about it.

London has its plus sides sometimes.

Even though Mol had no idea who he was.