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Pass me my pipe and carpet slippers
I have just realised something which, were I a depressive soul, would certainly depress me; although, as I generally state, the alternative is pretty rotten.
At one nanosecond past midday on Saturday next, that’s the 6 August, for you calendar-challenged types out there, I shall officially be closer to my 47th birthday than my 46th, which I failed to celebrate by virtue of having to pack for the move to Whetstone. That means that in 2½ years I shall hit 50, and the gentle down slope will steepen. I think I can feel my knee joints giving out in anticipation already. I am already dancing on the edge of granddad territory, and that will make it the full waltz…
This revelation of passing mortality was brought to me as a consequence of musing on what to buy my eldest niece for her 18th birthday on September 11th.
As I said, I’m not depressed by all this, though a couple of G&Ts would probably see to that.
Now, as the nearest I got to celebrating my birthday, was to stop packing long enough to down a couple of cans of Stella from the fridge, I was thinking maybe I should give some thought to celebrating my forty-six and a halfth birthday.
I shall mull this over. Or maybe just forget it.
So what does one buy a young lady on the occasion of her coming of age, nowadays? After all, mulling on that is what got me started on this thread.
At one nanosecond past midday on Saturday next, that’s the 6 August, for you calendar-challenged types out there, I shall officially be closer to my 47th birthday than my 46th, which I failed to celebrate by virtue of having to pack for the move to Whetstone. That means that in 2½ years I shall hit 50, and the gentle down slope will steepen. I think I can feel my knee joints giving out in anticipation already. I am already dancing on the edge of granddad territory, and that will make it the full waltz…
This revelation of passing mortality was brought to me as a consequence of musing on what to buy my eldest niece for her 18th birthday on September 11th.
As I said, I’m not depressed by all this, though a couple of G&Ts would probably see to that.
Now, as the nearest I got to celebrating my birthday, was to stop packing long enough to down a couple of cans of Stella from the fridge, I was thinking maybe I should give some thought to celebrating my forty-six and a halfth birthday.
I shall mull this over. Or maybe just forget it.
So what does one buy a young lady on the occasion of her coming of age, nowadays? After all, mulling on that is what got me started on this thread.
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Now, as a return snicker for you, I'll let you imagine my jaw-dropped moment of shock and horror when I discovered I was going to be a step-grandmother. Three at last count. Lucky for them all 3 girls are charming little bundles of cuteness. Still...