I've yet to break the news to Mrs Wife, but it seems I might be otherwise engaged on the occasion of her 29th birthday.
Birthdays - you get one every year, and once the 21st one is past, they're barely worth celebrating any more.
Therefore, when Mrs Wife completes her 29th trip around the sun, I may be far away from the Scottish homestead, taking my sporting endeavours to a brand new audience.
The ninth World Beard and Moustache Championships.
Unfortunately, a combination of style and inability has restricted my beard and moustache-growing endeavours up until now. But I think that with almost 14 months' notice, I could whip my whiskers into a suitably eye-catching style in an effort to capture the title for the United Kingdom.
I'm open to suggestions - should I be rocking the wild untamed cave man look for the World Championships, or instead spend some time with a tub of warm moustache wax as I twist the flowing locks sprouting from my nose into a fantastic handlebar effort? I'm willing to accept guidance from my readers as to the direction my face fuzz should take.
Though I think some of my fellow competitors will take some beating....