The Birthday Bash.
Lady Robbo made it to the ripe old age of 50 on the 10th September 2001 and, officially, she is now classified as an 'Old Biddy'.
Pictures of the Big Event are shown below including images of her extended luxury weekend in Dublin which, by the way, cost the Lord Robbo a friggin' arm and a leg and when he gets to 50 he'd better get similar treatment or there'll be questions, mark my words. 

{click on the thumbnail photographs to see the bigger picture}

    The cake! A magnificient concoction in the shape of an ice bucket complete with a real bottle of champagne. Despite the best efforts of various Robbo Clan hangers-on to scoff the lot there is still enough left to feed a small African State for a month. Sadly the champagne was consumed by the birthday girl almost immediately.

    Two of the aforementioned 'hangers-on' with their snouts in the trough. Regular readers will be able to easily identify both of these drunks.

    A rare sighting at Robbo Towers of Lord Robbo's brother Ian who, frankly, looks to have got to the 'wee bit squiffy' stage by the time this picture was taken.

    Off to Dublin and, on arrival at our hotel via luxury Merc from the airport, there to greet Lady Robbo was a bottle of very expensive champers and a single red wotsit. Impressive or what, eh?

    'The Towers', part of the JurysDoyle Hotel at Ballsbridge in Dublin and our 5 star abode for the weekend. Not a patch on 'Robbo Towers' of course but sometimes you just have to rough it with the locals and muck in.

    The birthday girl in the private lounge at The Towers enjoying tea and biccies. Obviously the bar had not yet opened.

     Our horse and carriage awaits for the touristy bit around the Irish capital. Marvellous to see that the Lady Robbo's father has finally found himself gainful employment.

     A typical view of a Dublin street and a horse's backside.

    St. Stephen's Green in the heart of the fair city where, it has to be said, the girls are so pretty. Not that Lord Robbo was allowed to look you understand. Oh no. "Don't even think about it you little weasel. Not on my birthday." (just some of the sweet nothings lovingly whispered into my ear).

    Trinity College. Home of the famous Book of Kells. Despite showing my library ticket to the staff they were most unhelpful with my request to borrow said tome for a few weeks.

    Lady Robbo meets up with her old friend Anne-Marie from her dim and very very distant youth. Copious amounts of alcohol were consumed in a vain attempt to recall, er, well anything really.

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