Do you remember when birthday's meant party hats and fondant icing, blanc mange in the shape of a pink rabbit and that frilly pink organza dress and patent shoes. And pass the parcel, pin the tail on the donkey, egg and spoon races and someone always threw up or had a tanty before going home with their little bag of cake and lollies?
Things have changed as I age. Birthday's are just reminders of how things used to be. Unless there's a '0' at the end. The big 3 '0', the big 4 '0', the big 5 'OMG', . . but 52 . . it's neither here nor there. I guess the 'right' side of 50 but not really worthy of celebration. But today, I was so surprised. I had more calls, more emails, more SMS's, more IM's than ever before. This rather ordinary and unremarkable birthday was made very special.
The girls at work, tampered with my computer whilst I was attending a meeting in the city yesterday so this morning I had a lovely little message on my desktop complete with rather quirky stick figures representing the girls in the quad. I had messages from Thommo in Sicely and Amy at sparrows fart, Ryan on MSN and The Merry Widow (who's birthday I always forget) found time whilst on playground duty, Biker Girl and Avril who never forget also wished me well. Grannymar and Steph both chimed in as did Gaye and a host of others. Babysis sent an artistic email - she never forgets unlike me who can't remember a birthday unless it pops up on Facebook! Thank you everyone! May I take this opportunity to wish you all many happy returns in advance and restrospect because I WILL forget.
The piece de resistance, a little package from ClareBear with Christmas Decorations, Swiss chocolate and 'pine' incense to remind me of the Black Forest and a lovely hand written note that Adam has kept from me for over 2 months. Then a call from my Surf God, Stan in New Zealand, soon to be a Dishy Daddy and of course and email from the Rev who shares my birthday but started his birthday officiating at a funeral poor sod. Even Gerard at work wished me happy birthday in French bless his Mauritian sox.
And finally, minutes before I choose to publish, the kid dials in from Galicia in Spain with what looks for all the world like a gremlin on her lap . . she's mucking out and mucking in and learning how to train young horses in the fine art of showjumping and realising that we down under are a little 'reckless' in our horsemastery! She's homesick and ready to return which warms the cockles I must tell you.
Thank you Adam darling for your lovely voucher for a Swedish massage and pedicure . . .much needed and of course our Whale Watch on Sunday . . .
Ah, another year, another number . . .I'm not celebrating any more until there's the big 6 'OH'. But frankly . . it was quiet with a few lubly surprises . . just how I like it!