Goat, goat, goat, mouse

I turned fifteen in February 2006, and for the first time since I was nine I celebrated with a large party. Heather was turning fifteen four days after me, so we put our heads together, made lists and plans, appealed to our parents and organised a large bowling party for all our friends.

There are several positives about having a large party, which in my opinion far outweigh the negatives. You don't offend anyone by leaving them off the guestlist, the party atmosphere (for atmosphere, read noise) is far greater, and you get more presents.

It was an interesting haul. I have a fantastic group of friends who, on the whole, took great pains to find out exactly what I would appreciate and buy it for me. On the other hand, some of Heather 's friends, who I knew vaguely and got on with quite well but didn't spend much time with, weren't sure what to get and fell back on the standard teenage gifts. Even so, I appreciated their gifts just as much as I appreciated the ones that were spot on.

My "big" present, from three close friends, was a goat. No kidding: a real live, flesh-and-blood goat. Somewhat disappointingly, the closest I got to it was a very nice, specially-produced card with a photo of all three of them on the front, and a little image declaring me the owner of a goat that had been sent to a family who needed it more than I did.

Perhaps it was all for the best that I didn't receive the actual goat: our house is messy enough already with just two cats and a puppy!

To accompany the far-away-in-a-foreign-country goat I got two small plastic models of goats, from varying people. I took great delight in both of these, perching them on my desk at school and giving them names. Yes, the goats were a resounding success.

From Heather , who possibly had the best idea what I would appreciate, since she puts up with my ramblings every day , there was a veritable mountain of different things. She had listened carefully to my gleeful exclamations over the Disney channel (I don't have a television, so when I visit her house I pounce on the cartoons), her singing Bagpuss mouse & a certain kind of sour sweet we ate at a previous party, and acted accordingly.

She bought a Recess: All Growed Down DVD (from which I can now quote large sections), a smaller version of her singing mouse and three packets of Sour Flying Saucers, which in my opinion demonstrates excellent taste and much foresight.

This is not, by any means, an exhaustive list of the gifts that so delighted my mature and cultured tastes. Everything I have ever been given for any occasion (with the possible exception of the multitude of Barbies my uncle insisted on giving me until I was twelve) has been lovely, and although some things have been less well-used than others (I'm a dreadful needlewoman, but that doesn't stop my various grandmothers trying to interest me in cross-stitched wall-hangers) I've been glad of them all.

But I must say that my fifteenth birthday certainly filled a void that I considered present from my childhood. When I was the right age to be delighting over Recess and Bagpuss and the like, they either didn't exist or I just didn't know about them.

And the goat was cute.

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