A Bit of a Birthday Bash

The longer you remain undead, the less significant does your birthday become. Some years ago, I was reading the paper and noticed that the date was 29th June. Something about that date pinged in my mind. 29th June ….. And then it struck me …. it was two days after my birthday. Everyone had forgotten my birthday.

Was I upset? Not in the least. I thought that it was a good laugh, especially seeing the faces of wife and daughters when I told them. Shock and shame – almost as bad as admitting to smoking these days.

Thus, as the years go by, receiving a card and a little present is quite sufficient – which is what happened on Friday. Hitting seventy five is a bit special, I suppose, but only in the sense of physical survival. I mean, in contrast with, say, one’s thirtieth birthday, when years of survival are irrelevant. Daughter two told me a week or so ago that they (the daughters) were going to take me and herself out for a meal today, as it was my 75th, which I thought was nice. I was a bit surprised to discover that daughter one was coming up from the South with family to attend, but it was, well, going to be all the better. We were to meet at daughter three’s house, which is nearby, for an aperitif before proceeding to the eatery.

So, come 3.30 pm-ish, off we trotted to her house. Herself was in her wheelchair, so we had to negotiate the drive, get in through the front door  and fiddle and faff to get into the lounge. Daughter three said, “Do you fancy a drink?” I replied, “Erm……. Well, Yes” (being still a little hungover from the previous night), whereupon she opened the French doors into the dining room and I passed through. Imagine my surprise to be greeted by a host of nephews and their families and friends singing ‘happy birthday’!

I was shocked. I am an undead, disgusting, filthy, stinking smoker.

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The point is that it is easy, as a result of the constant bombardment of propaganda, to lose sight of your own worth. It ought to be no shock to find that you are ‘appreciated’, and that you have a loving extended family.

But I was also, of course, delighted. A lovely buffet, alcohol above recommended limits, and lots of laughs. Also, we collectively vaguely watched the Brazil V Chile football match. One little prezzie might interest LegIron.  It is single malt, single cask, 15 year-old whisky called ‘Balvenie’. A few samples during the course of the evening revealed a touch more sweetness than normal, and a touch more ‘stickiness’. To appreciate the taste, it is necessary only to sip it – literally, merely to wet one’s lips. ON NO ACCOUNT should one mix it with anything else at all – with the possible exception of water. Not ice – water – if you must. There are other flavours within it that I have yet to identify. There is plenty of time to do so in due course.

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About the football match penalty shoot-out, it is interesting to observe how comical the attempts to score a goal from 12 metres are. I have a theory. It is that these highly skilled footballers are no more than fourteen years old mentally. Thus, brilliant footballers though they might be, they have no mathematical concept of penalty taking. The maths show that the distance from the centre of the goal to the top corners of the goal is about fifteen feet (about five metres). No matter how much the goalkeeper might wave his arms, there is no way that he can levitate himself to reach the top corners of the goal. Therefore, the only sensible way to take a penalty is to aim as near as possible to the top corner of the goal and to kick the ball as hard as possible. “As near as possible” would give you about a square metre area at the top corners which is out of the reach of the goalkeeper, and your success depends only upon your own skill. Better to fail by missing the goal completely than giving the goalkeeper a chance of saving.

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It has been really lovely to meet up with my sister Joan’s lads and their families. Both she and her husband, Harry, died some years ago. Joan died from the effects of breast cancer and Harry from the effects of stomach cancer. I loved them both intensely, but not obviously. They are part of me, and I am part of them. They will never die. Their children are also part of me. If ever they are in deep, deep shit and need help, they have my unconditional assurance of my best endeavours.

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That is the problem with the Social Services and Public Health. Neither of them have a soul. From top to bottom, they are riddled with ‘political correctness’. The UN, the WHO, the IPCC, the EU have no soul. They have no ‘love’. They calculate.

 

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6 Responses to “A Bit of a Birthday Bash”

  1. SalsaJo2 Says:

    Many Happy Returns, Junican! Just to say, I loved reading your birthday story above. Especially when you mentioned your sister and brother-in-law. How you loved them and your loving and caring relationship towards your nieces/nephews. I have a similar relationship with mine. It brought a sentimental tear to my eye.

    • junican Says:

      I must admit that there was a soupçon of ‘alcohol related’ sentimentality, but only in the sense of ‘in vino veritas’.

  2. garyk30 Says:

    75 years is indeed a mile stone. “Congratulations!!!!”

    Your relatives are probably concerned about your Will.

    I, on the other hand, offer my best wishes with the purest of regards. 🙂

    • junican Says:

      LoL! There is more truth in that than you perhaps realise. We were chatting about hacking into bank accounts, and I related a tale, which was true, that someone somehow managed to use my account to extract £13,000 which was used to buy a car. (About $25,000?) I said that, as a consequence, as soon as I had told the bank, I moved ‘all the rest’ into my wife’s account, My nephew was very quick to ask what ‘all the rest’ amounted to! Cheeky beggar!
      But it was all in jest. I got the money back, of course, and put everything back as it was.
      We are not well-off, but we are ‘comfortable’ financially.

  3. cherie79 Says:

    Sounds like a lovely day

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