How could a Hibby birthday have that result?

IT'S your birthday and this year it falls on a Saturday. Coincidentally it's Cup Final Saturday and, sadly, your team's not in it. But your arch rivals are, having knocked you out in the semi-final, and they are now red-hot favourites against some second division outfit more famous for marriages than their football team.

Yup. That was my predicament last weekend and it was not a nice one to be in, but I thought I had the perfect remedy. I thought, "let's just get the hell out of town!" and plans were set to do just that.

Me and my lot, my good friend and (Hibby) neighbour Steve with his lot and my mum and (Hibby) dad all got booked up for a weekend away to celebrate my final year of being in my thirties. Thus, purely coincidentally you understand, collectively avoiding any potential Jambo celebrations.

I thought the ideal refuge would be none other than the Peebles Hydro; not too far away, but far enough to avoid any likelihood of bumping into any Jamboid victory parades.

Not long after the semi-final, we were all booked up, as was my time off from work, and everyone was good to go.

Until Wednesday of last week, that is. Alas, Lori, our youngest, woke up not feeling too good. Spots had appeared by bathtime and we soon realised she had fallen victim to chickenpox. And her infectious stage would remain for the next week or so.

Bang went our trip to Peebles! No getting out of town. No hiding from Jambos. No dumping the kids in the kids club while getting steaming in the bar.

An apologetic last-minute call was made to the Hydro who were very understanding and refunded our deposits (phew!). But the problem remained; it was my birthday and Hearts were set to win the Scottish Cup on the same day! What the hell was I to do?

Nothing else for it, it would appear, bar strike up the barbie and open up some cold golden ones. Which is what I did.

But what would I wear? Thankfully I had hosted a fundraising ball the previous evening at the Sheraton, which, coincidentally, was attended by none other than Gretna's owner, Brooks Mileson. Such is Brooks' generosity; I ended up with a Gretna top to wear on my birthday.

Let me just say this is the first time I have worn a football top that wasn't Hibs' or Scotland's, but I I felt it was for a very good cause.

So the barbie was up and running, beers were flowing and the telly was on in the back room; just so I could keep an eye on the score, you understand. And, well, we all know what happened next.

Suffice to say, until Derek Townsley stepped up to take a penalty, I was moments from having the best birthday ever! But sadly it wasn't to be and after a couple of quiet moments when I intentionally burnt a couple of ribs, I was fine.

Hearts had won the Cup. Just. And there was nothing that anyone could have done about it. Except drink. Which we did.

And very soon we were almost completely oblivious of the celebrations that were taking place just a couple of miles away across town and carried on drinking so it remained that way.

Normally Sunday mornings for me are on the airwaves of Forth One, but last weekend I had the foresight to arrange a day off; purely to celebrate my birthday weekend you understand!

Suffice to say, last weekend was the best of times, and indeed, the worst of times and it only leaves me to say that I would like to congratulate Hearts on their achievement.

I would LIKE to, but unfortunately, I just can't.

Taken from the Scotsman