It began like many other days... Justina racing out to work, grim-faced, the prospect of another day in cubicle-hell heavy on as she pedals amidst Gertrude Street traffic and on to the sanctuary of Exhibition Gardens before the final dash to Elizabeth Street. Carrying the dreaded coughing flu with her it would be another one "of those days".

Much of the day I spent to myself, seeking out places to read and take coffee quietly. I didn't want to reflect much on the past, but the idea that I am perhaps mid my life was ever present. Would I want to live another 42 years like the last?

Boris's parcel broke the cycle of introspection... and so did the drinks at the Union early in the evening where I was most surprised to see one familiar face after another step up to the bar with birthday greetings at their lips.

It wasn't until a firm hand clasped my shoulder, the soft and dignified voice of Roy Garner wishing me a happy birthday that I turned towards Justina... her smile, that familier generous smile revealed to me the extent to which she had organised so many of our friends to spend this evening with us.

That moment of realisation...

I'd been done!

Surprise, surprise...

Dinner at Middle Kingdom... Duck in plentiful supply. Three tables full...

Final hours at Gore Core... bleeding into what was left of that week.

Thanks to everyone for making this one special day... what a crew!