When does Happy Birthday become Happy Not Dead Yet Day? Is there a cut-off age for birthdays, or should men become like women and become just 21 again? Are birthdays just for children? Why am I talking about this anyway? Today is the anniversary of my birth. I was born on this day in 1972, 51 years ago. When this article will be published my birthday will have passed so don’t try finding my date of birth. Some people love their birthdays and enjoy them and just go for it. I, surprise, surprise, am not one of those dreadful people. Noooo, I am just in a foul mood, and despite receiving happy birthday wishes with good grace, I remain, under my breath, just an angry old man. What is wrong with me?!
It could be because my birthday isn’t even being celebrated on the day itself. Well, it is but it isn’t. I expressed the wish for a beer and pizza night. So, of course, I’m the one who has to go out and get the effing pizzas and get the beer. I’m not even allowed to choose the effing film, because I am a sucker for a Rom-Com, and my family members aren’t so we won’t be watching one. My daughter chose a birthday cake, a chocolate cake, which I am rather partial to, but it has that sickly sweet icing on it and is a unicorn rainbow cake. She’s basically taking the piss out of me. This isn’t me being paranoid since she actually admitted everything! I’m even more pissed off with myself as I should be grateful instead of being selfish. Damn you conscience!!!
I don’t like being the centre of attention and feel very uneasy about it. If any bugger sings happy birthday to me, I just want the ground to swallow me up.
There were actually people last year for my fiftieth who actually came around for a party! The utter gall of it! Apparently “they,” say you have to be made a fuss of and receive presents. It was awful. You have to sit there pretending to have a good time. The thing was a disaster and I still have a wine stain on my favourite shirt!
I told my son last night how I generally love my fellow man, and he promptly replied with the word bollocks! You hate people! I don’t necessarily hate them, and I do like them, far away, and on my own terms, i.e. not in my house wishing me a happy birthday!
How can I be like this?? I have no idea. I remember my childhood birthdays with great affection, and I can’t blame booze for giving me just partial recollections. My mother always went the extra mile, and I remember various styled chocolate cakes with great affection. Even when I was at boarding school birthdays were fun. I would get some cards, and Thornton toffees from my grandmother, and Matron would come round asking me if I wanted a chocolate cake or fruit cake? I generally asked if I could have a chocolate cake, and at the end of supper, the cake would be brought out of the kitchen and divided up amongst the whole school which was a great way to do things.
Even when I came back into the state school system, you would get the bumps which never really hurt, and one would have to pretend to struggle and just take it, but it was a laugh. Now it would be classed as bullying and possibly assault! How times have changed!
So, thank you to all who have wished me a happy birthday. Thank you for not picking me up by my hands and feet and not kicking me! Thank you for taking a moment to have a thought for me on my special day. I really do love you all!