The day has rolled round again when another number is added to my age and everyone gives you more cards and a few much liked gifts. But it becomes a little less exciting the older you get.
This is not a big birthday, I’ve done the big 3-0 so now they are just numbers, passing me by, but by society I have to celebrate it, my question is why?
When asked this year what I wanted, I said nothing, not due to the fact I do not like receiving gifts, far from it I just had no desire or need for anything. I did get gifts off my other half and conceded that my Dad could take me out for dinner, always up for good food and some good red wine. The other thing is everyone asks ‘What are you doing for your birthday?’, my first response was “well it is a Wednesday so probably watching a bit of Netflix or a film of some kind”, apparently this wasn’t the correct response. So being the easy pray that I am I decided I would be at the pub from seven in the evening then if anyone wanted to have an excuse to come to pub I would be that excuse, I know I’m a martyr (not in a religious way).
Blimey I am sounding like a right grumpy git, but I am really not and I am very thankful for the presents, my phone going off every few minutes to tell me some one has written, ‘Happy Birthday, have a great/good/lovely/splendid day’ *delete as appropriate*on Facebook, and I am always grateful for my friends who want to drink with me on my day of birth. I always think the mother should get a gift too; she did all the work I just happened to be there.
But sometimes it feels like you must want to be pampered on your birthday and treated and be celebrated like a God, come to think of it yes I do, so please build be a giant statue in the centre of town so the pigeons have something else to poop on.