Weirdly this birthday seemed a lot less scary than last year’s big milestone affair. Probably because there were no zeros in sight. I’ve just turned 15 which is an age that suits me down to the ground.
And what better way to celebrate this not terribly exciting age by being sandwiched between the upstairs generation and the downstairs generation? Upstairs are the creators. Downstairs are the created. In other words it was a quiet family birthday with my parents, my hubby, and my two beloved daughters. Those who made me and those we have made.
Last year’s stress about making sure everyone was happy had gone and was replaced by just being happy. Happy to be together. Happy to lunch out. Happy to sit around the fireplace in the afternoon, doing nothing special and loving every minute of it.
And of course being a champagne addict we couldn’t miss out on the traditional toast to my health with dark pink bubbles, then the untraditional toast of our hot-sandwich dinner and the make-do birthday fridge cake with two candles proclaiming me to be 501 years old. But who cares?
This last year has been a huge one. A huge number to start it off. A huge joy to realise how appreciated I am. A huge amount of ups and downs, ins and outs, chutes and swings and roundabouts. There were births and deaths, tears and smiles, work and play in great big piles.
And that is how we finished my birthday evening, by making up silly rhymes, jokes and limericks, laughing and laughing at our own crazy efforts.
So to say thank you for this ordinary-but-not-really-day here is my own quick invention:
Oh my God, I am now fifty-one,
But the day was a bundle of fun,
We all sat round the fire,
Telling jokes that were dire,
And we laughed like we never had done!