But anyway, the reason we're all here. It's time for what I have over the years come to call 'The Post Birthday Analysis', AKA 'The PBA'.
So, I woke up in the morning (phew, because otherwise this blog would've been a very different story) and I had breakfast by myself- nothing out of the ordinary there. After, I got dressed and then set about doing the ironing, all the while waiting, for that inevitable moment when my stomach would drop to the floor and I'd think 'oh shoot, I'm another year older'. But it never came. I never experienced such thoughts... which now makes me worry slightly. Am I going to be walking along one sunny afternoon and then suddenly BHAM!, it hits me: my life is leaving me behind and the process of marination is quite simply accelerating? I mean, I hope I get some warning before the oh-crikey-I've-passed-the-quarter-of-a-century-mark moment. I'd at least like to be seated in a dimly lit room with a nice chilled glass of fruit and barley squash (preferably orange), and be able to ponder and experience the moment before it passes.
.........
Right, we're okay, we're back on track. The moment has been and gone. So where were we? Oh yes, I was telling you about my nothing out of the extraordinary day. After I'd done loads of stuff (the technical term used to imply that someone has done loads, when in actual fact, they've basically day-dreamed the day away and end up flummoxed when questioned on their day. The word 'stuff' is used, because it is the only word that pops into the mind when under the pressure and scrutiny of inquisitive parents). However, I did decide that the whole 'getting older thing' isn't really that bad. Personally, I think that the extra year gives me a bit more of a standing compared to when I was but a young girl of 25. I think that 26 makes me sound a bit more distinguished. In fact, I think that I'll skip my next birthday and bypass the one after that and stay at this age for the next few years. Yep, I'll do that.
Anyway, after the day passed without much event, so did the evening. True to form, the parents had arranged a birthday do. We went to a nice little quaint restaurant that served basically, any concoction you could think of. Neither of my brothers could go (Scott was on a date; and Graham? Well, Graham's just Graham. Enough said). So Mum and Dad invited our long-standing neighbours- Marjorie and Alan, and Gma (Grandma). Oh, of course, I was there too (for obvious reasons).
When we were at the restaurant, I thought that I'd try something different to drink, so I did. I thought, let's see what all the fuss is about. Let's see why James Bond always has the same thing- shaken, not stirred, no less. So I ordered a James Bond with high expectations.
My verdict? Urgh! Don't even go there. Steer well clear and only drink it if your life is dependent on 007. A James Bond drink is seriously over-rated. I mean, I didn't even attract any smouldering stares from all the good looking extras and love interests that I thought I would, simply because I'd be giving out the Bond aura of chicness and sophistication that says 'I'm too cool for this establishment'. Did my drink provide me with that? No. After a while, I swapped it with Gma's Cointreau and lemonade (you'll be pleased to know, she didn't notice, but I think that's because she was on her way to being slightly sozzled. I know this because, Gma said 'oh b*gg*r' instead of 'oh blast' when she draped her sleeve in her soup and Gma NEVER swears...).
A bit later on in the evening, I had the obligatory sip of Mum's wine that I've been having for about 10 years now. I was really expecting that this would be my year; that this would be the year when finally, I could proclaim that I'd like a glass of wine with my meal. Sadly, it was not to be. Within the standard three seconds my face did the involuntary shudder that always follows the testing of wine. I can't tell you how much this disappointed me as I was hoping that by now, my taste buds would have matured. Oh well, until next year.
Luckily, I didn't receive any liquid (alcoholic) gifts. However, I did receive a fabulous pair of pants and socks from Mum and Dad. (More Mum really, because that would be weird otherwise. But you know, I love my birthday for the reason that I can always rely on Mum to ensure that my drawers and foot warmers are always replenished. Always. Year on year without fail). I got a few other bits and bobs... you know, perfume, money, hub caps, blanket, bag, jewellery, cards, etc. But nothing compares to the excitement and relief at the unveiling of the undies. Fabulous!
All in all, I had a lovely time for the simple reason that the day was simple. Of course it would've been nice to see my uni friends, but there's always next year- provided I send out the invites SOON. I just enjoyed being in good company and of course, the bonus game of Birthday Scrabble... Moving on!
In seriousness, I have learnt a few morals from my big day (and the one and a half days after) though:
- Do not be concerned that the quantity of presents depletes as you age. It doesn't have to be that way! If there are three pairs of socks and each is wrapped individually, do not despair, for that can result in six individual parcels.
- Skipping years can be done, provided that you do not inform too many people of your age. When your birthday does come around the following year, simply develop an allergy to birthday cake (or all cake if you want to cover all avenues) for one night only so that NO candles can be displayed to dispel the myth.
Farewell.
I couldn't have said it better myself!
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