Birthdays. They’re a funny thing aren’t they. It’s a bit like your life running on a taxi meter and everyone celebrating because the journey is costing you an extra quid. “Hurrah you’re older and today we can be smug,” they say excitedly… as they dance around the mulberry bush.
Today just so happens to be mine… or rather this post is getting slapped up on my blog today while I’m drinking the finest wines known to humanity (a tipple of Primitivo ‘Taste the Difference’ it is then :)).
Side Note: What’s the deal with these “Taste the Difference” things. Do they get tasting groups together that say, “Ooh, you can really taste the difference with this one, you need a special sticker for this taste sensation“. How did that become a thing? I suppose it sounds better than, “Slightly Better Quality So We Can Charge A Premium, Which Will Delight Shareholders“.
I was thinking about my birthday sneaking up on me like a thief in the night earlier, and the song “It’s My Party (& I’ll Cry If I Want To)” just came into my head for no real reason while I was waiting at a set of traffic lights.
I’ve never really thought about those lyrics before, but when you do think about it, if you can’t cry at your own party, when can you? I’m in total agreement with these lyrics and the declared right to cry at an event everyone is attending in your honour. If you want to cry, do it at your party until all the guests leave, that’s what I say.
I watched someone clear a garden once and it wasn’t even her party. Everyone just scattered like they’d been told they were paddling in a pool with a hungry piranha.
“How did the party go?”
“The host cried. A LOT.”
“It was their party though, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You can’t complain. Haven’t you ever heard the song?”
I watched a programme once about this woman who bought her husband an old Bentley for his birthday (yours for 200k+). I think she bought it with his money (LOL) but it had a lovely crystal decanter for drinks in there. These are the kinds of things I notice.
She presented him with the car, he grinned his face off and they all watched fireworks explode in the sky as umpteen guests cheered at the prospect of free food and drinks.
I already did my birthday thing a few months back when I whizzed down a zip wire above a quarry. It was just a serene experience, like watching a movie. Not what I expected at all, especially after I had been looking over an aqueduct bridge prior to this to acclimatise myself to the impending notion of all things perilous.
Don’t mind me. I’m just having a birthday.
People always say, “You’ll be X” age tomorrow to which I reply, “Yes, and I’ll be that age the day after as well“.
When it comes to logic, I’m a JEDI (self proclaimed).
As humans we all go for round numbers don’t we… 30, 40, 50. They are supposed to be special, but personally I think anything ending in 7 would be better. OMG it’s your 37th birthday, people would say.
Far less predictable and more enjoyable, so I’m setting up a club called “Birthdays for Hipsters”
If you want to join, you just need to zig when other people zag. Don’t wear too much flare to express yourself (a tip of the hat to ‘Office Space’ there) and if you walk into a bar, do so ironically.
Hopefully a bunch of people won’t appear from behind a sofa and shout “SURPRISE” and I’ll look back on this birthday as a something rather lovely. You know, like a swimming pool when the water is just the right temperature.
Another Side Note: I changed that to ‘splendid’ after I’d already written about the swimming pool and discovered that you can’t say to someone: “Come on in the water is rather splendid” as that makes you sound like a stilted spiv.
“Come on in, the water’s lovely” rolls off the tongue so much better.
I’m going to try to avoid being in any photos where I have to do a Chandler Bing grin. And if I cry at a party, it’ll only be at the right one.
Thanks for reading. I’ll play this one out with (you knew it was coming) ‘It’s My Party’ by Dave Stewart & Barbara Gaskin… because if you can’t cry at your own party, when can you?