Birthdays

I hate birthdays. That is not a comment made because I am a woman and I don't like the fact that I am getting older. I started to hate my birthday when I was 44, which was 11 years ago.

My 44th birthday was the first time that my husband had forgotten about my birthday. He died five days later.

Since then I have had one 'good' birthday (my 50th) which I celebrated in Corfu with a fabulous dinner for myself, my Dad, and my Corfiot friends. I'd also had a small celebration at work a few days before my birthday. There was cake and wine for a few of my friends at work and some of them had decorated my office with balloons and banners before I got into work.

The following year I celebrated my birthday convalescing from emergency surgery. I had been taken to hospital in an ambulance from work on what should have been my last day at work before my summer leave. My trip to Corfu had to be cancelled and I missed out on what would have been my last holiday with my Dad.

Since then I have spent two birthdays in Canada, but last year and this the day has turned out to be one spent on my own. I should have been going out for lunch with Mr Smiley but he has had to cancel because he has to make a presentation for work. I have had a phone call from him, and one from my aunt and Godmother in South Africa, and one from my surrogate Mum in Canada. But because of the way of things, I have only received one birthday card. Mr Smiley was going to give me a card when we met for lunch, but that has now been put in the mail and will probably arrive tomorrow or Thursday. There and Back had already decided that because of the vagaries of the mail that she would give me my birthday card when we meet tomorrow.

So with no celebratory lunch today, I have bought myself a bottle of wine which I am drinking as I write this and I will be having salad for my evening meal. I have decided that I will celebrate my birthday tomorrow instead when I am having a day on the town with There and Back. And with a bit of luck I should be having a belated birthday lunch with Mr Smiley next Tuesday, hospital appointments (both his and mine) permitting.

Taking It Easy

As it's my birthday and I find myself another year older and closer to my bus pass, I thought I would have an easy day today. So I had a lie in, then I had a leisurely breakfast. I've been catching up on some emails, and I have been reading a few blogs right from their beginnings. It's been quite interesting to see how bloggers have developed their style over the years.

I haven't had any lunch yet because my breakfast of fruit and cheese is still keeping me going. My aunt (who is also my god-mother) who lives far away and the other side of the equator has rung me to wish me a happy birthday, and to tell me that it is freezing cold where she lives. It probably isn't, but having lived in a hot climate for more than 50 years, what we would consider to be a comfortably warm day is described as freezing by her. But bless her, she is 84 years old and has just recovered from a fractured pelvis.

As to the rest of the day; how am I going to spend that? Well, I shall probably do some proofreading for Project Gutenberg this afternoon if I can find something that is English as I don't feel up to French, German, Italian, Portuguese, Dutch, Spanish or Gaelic at the moment. Then this evening I shall possibly partake in a glass of wine. After all it is my birthday; why shouldn't I live dangerously?

I Should Be Asleep But ...

... I've woken up, realised it's my birthday, so I've opened the birthday cards that had arrived over the last few days. It's nice to know that some people care.