I'm one of these unfortunate people who have their birthday so close to Christmas that in ancient cultures I would have probably been worshiped as a god or something, so this year Mrs C has decided that September is the month for my 'unofficial' birthday. After all if it's good enough for Lizzie Windsor it's good enough for me. It's also one of those milestone birthdays that's either where life begins or ends depending on which side of the divide you stand in our youth obsessed culture. So for my 40th (there I've said it a feel a whole load better) Mrs C has planned something rather special. Tomorrow some guys are going to turn up with an Aston Martin DB6 for me to drive around in for 48 hours, sadly they will want it back. If that wasn't enough we're going to drive it up to Raymond Blanc's hotel Le Manoir aux Quat' Saisons. Lord it's going to be tough.