In the name of friendship... I give her David Tennant

A signed programme from David Tennant for my friend's birthday. Sure, she would have liked actual David Tennant but I felt getting that was pushing it a bit - even my witchy powers don't extend that far - but hey, for a little humiliation and pleading, I'm more than happy to obtain this for her. [I have got the lovely Helen's permission to post this here: though I have been squeeing all day since yesterday morning]

HL has her birthday next week, and though she proclaimed she was 'not bothered' about not having got something signed at the stage door last week, I knew at heart she was a little sad inside [the unexpressed term 'gutted' would probably cover it].

So, throwing caution to the wind I took my last shreds of dignity and organised the deed (no laughing at the back: I'm maintaining the myth that I had some dignity before doing this whatever you may say).

When I got the package back it was definitely a case of cue SQUEE!

I confess I did do a big dancing jig in my nightwear, screeching to the ceiling 'thank you!!', before plotting how I could oh so casually drop this around to H's.

I went for the classic 'dropping your birthday card off early' technique [since our Stratford trip had effectively been our presents to each other]. I put the card into a carrier-bag, carefully making sure that it covered the centre of the programme where the signature was written. I passed the bag on, mentioning as calmly as I could 'there's your card, and I think that also belongs to you' before turning away silently squeeing in advance of her response. I sensed her puzzlement. Pause.

Squeal: 'oh MY GOD!! - how did you... what did you do?!'*

Needless to say, she's a bit chuffed. And so am I on her behalf. Is it wrong to feel self-indulgently virtuous?!

* Cloud said I should have said 'David stayed over and I got him to sign it before he left this morning'. Hurrumph. Honestly, the things my boy says to me...