Last night I received a text from my Mum at midnight. My Mum and Dad are away (again) in England for a while. So I'm lying in the leaba, and I get a text wishing me a happy birthday along with directions to a gift. I got out of my bed, and followed the instructions. I found a lovely present with a Winnie The Pooh 1st birthday card from my family. *cry*

My transplant is a bit unusual in the fact that it happened over a weekend. For those of whom I haven't tracked down and forced to listen to my tale, there were one or two delays before my transplant could go ahead, which basically meant that although it was scheduled for Saturday night, it didn't go ahead until Sunday afternoon. I had to go to bed knowing my transplant was the next day. Weird.

Do you know what happened on the 1st of July last year? England got knocked out of the world cup to Portugal. Ronaldo *winked* and Rooney got sent off. I bet you didn't know that! Or...remember that. Well I knew, because I was resting/sleeping/lazing for the match, so missed the start; flew to England during the match, missing the middle and was still travelling while it was ending. We caught the highlights on the BBC1 news.

It's been a year. A whole long year. And while my 'real' birthday isn't until tomorrow (I was operated on the 2nd of July) I'm celebrating anyway.

I think going to Justin Timberlake and standing about 10 people from the stage; managing to walk and walk and stand and basically not sit for about 5 hours is celebration enough for me. JT is the man, as is 50cent as is Timberland. Amazing. I will write about it tomorrow. Not because I don't have room now, not because I have rambled enough, but rather because I'm not working tomorrow so need some 'stuff' to blog about. It was good though. Or should I say 'sweet'....