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At 1.48, expecting to make just one or two more 'no reply' calls then do my internal e-mails and go home, I got walloped with a three adult household. Fortunately the respondent was a nice lady and we finished the interview at the perfect time - 2.25 - allowing me to claim an extra half hour's pay and still make my bus. There wasn't time to have another go at inputting last week's payclaims, which was maybe just as well as the information screen was saying people were still having problems. The pleasure of trying again can wait until Monday.

Needed to get a gift for my cousin Steve whose 40th birthday party is tonight. I'd kicked around a couple of ideas without being completely convinced, then on the bus from work this afternoon I remembered Steve is a fervent Portsmouth fan, so on arrival at Fareham I went to the Pompey shop in Fareham shopping mall and bought him a PFC tankard.

(no subject)

Went to my cousin Steve's 40th birthday party. Steve's sister, my cousin Gillian, had e-mailed me to say I'd have to tell her boyfriend Patrick that I'm a Holland supporter, as he's Dutch, so I wore my Oranje shirt. When I arrived, he noticed me straight away and shouted out to me. Gillian and her and Steve's mum, my Aunt Eileen, called out to me to come and join them. Also at their table were my cousin Terri (Gillian's sister) and Aunt Ann.

Patrick immediately asked me why I supported Holland and I explained I'd been hooked at the age of seven by the 1978 World Cup team. My mention of Arie Haan's forty-yarder against Italy went down well. He asked "What about the 1974 team? They were even better." I reminded him I was only three at the time, but that of course I'd heard of that legendary side. Patrick went on to ask me about my visits to the Netherlands. He was from Den Haag; I told him I'd been there and stayed in a nice family-run small hotel in Scheveningen. I made a decent approximation of pronouncing the name in the proper Dutch way; at that point Patrick turned to Gillian and, indicating me, said to her "He can say Scheveningen!" Gillian replied "I can't. I can say 'I am Gillian' and 'Fucking hell' in Dutch and that's it." I insisted she say 'fucking hell' for us - she obliged "'Hot verdomme'. I know that because he" - she cocked her head towards Patrick - "says it so much!"

Spent the evening drinking Mackesons (Patrick bought me one the first time after my arrival that he went to the bar) and catching up with all these relatives, whom I hadn't seen for yonks. Another sister of Steve's, my cousin Marion, and I (we were always close) hit the dancefloor together to do the Peter Kay walk when Amarillo came on, and a lot of people - my little group included - all got up for a boogie to The Music Man and stayed on for Agadoo and the Conga, but our train had split up by the end of that record. The rest of the time, hardly anyone was dancing.

Just after 9 pm, Steve gave in to family pressure to get up and sing karaoke - he did a rocking rendition of Buddy Holly's Rave On - then we were let loose on the food. There was a good spread, with plenty of chicken legs and breaded chicken discs and quite a few nuts and nibbles. With Steve's performance I'd expected open karaoke to be declared, but it never was. Gillian said they'd let me sing if I got up and asked, but I wasn't about to be the only sod who did. I sat back content to listen to the 60s, 80s and 90s tunes being spun.

One time at the bar, a girl whom the barman served ahead of me by mistake turned to me to say sorry then noticed my football shirt. "Which team is that?" she asked.

"Holland."

She told me one of her twin eight-year-old boys supported Italy, the other France.

"Did they fight during the '06 World Cup Final?" I asked. She confirmed with a smile that they had. She added that she'd love to take a holiday in France but that if the family went there they'd have to have a day trip into Italy to keep her other son happy. She added that she liked skiing, so I suggested they go to the Swiss Alps where they could have day trips into both France and Italy. She loved that idea, "because then we go where I want to be!"

Later on someone called Donna and her boyfriend arrived. She'd been at school with me, albeit two years higher; she remembered me well and we talked for a while. Her boyfriend had a mate called Mike who also remembered me from school days and was friendly enough but appeared to have had a few. Gillian gave one of her family friends a rocket for buying himself a Blue WKD and forgetting to get her a red one, so I went up and bought her a red one myself. Soon after, I'd had my four units for the night and was starting to feel a touch on the tired side when Mike asked if I wanted to join him in finding "a couple of chicks for a dance". Unsure about trying to pull in tandem with someone who was well oiled, and about subjecting some unfortunate young lady to my two left feet, I said I'd be off in a minute. "There's loads of them!" Mike protested, but I wished him good luck and started to say my goodbyes to people. Aunt Ann asked how I was getting home; when I told her "On foot" she offered me a lift.

Steve protested that we couldn't go yet - "You've all got to stay till 12 o'clock!" - but he was fine when I shook his hand and said happy birthday and goodbye. As we walked over to Aunt Ann's car she said she'd been wanting to make a move too.

'Night folks.