Are diamonds forever?
Daughter called it my Diamond Jubilee.
I suppose there was some numerical significance? Three quarters of a century?
It’s interesting how as a kid, birthdays are enormously significant. Each one represents a step up the ladder away from childhood towards that mysterious world of being an adult. Then, with the passing of time we realise that maybe they aren’t that significant at all and can safely be ignored. But then a stage is reached where birthdays just signify the relentless passing of time and a stark reminder of mortality.
So yesterday arrived not with a bang or even a whimper. To be honest I completely forgot what day it was until I got the cheery text from Daughter. Later on though I had a quiet chuckle. Once again I was stuck in hospital while they ran all sorts of tests. As part of hospital procedure they keep asking me the date of my birth which, like a prisoner number makes sure I am who I am and that hopefully they don’t remove a limb by mistake. Would anyone notice the significance of the date? In fact a couple did so I was treated with a little more cordiality than usual.
There were no wild parties at the Manor yesterday. If I remember correctly the last wild party here was in ’71 [yiz can work out why for yourselves]. People still talk about that one in hushed revered terms. Some in the village never recovered.
No, yesterday was very quiet.
And that’s the way I like it.
Congratulations, old timer. I can say that, being just less than a year behind you.
I’d heard about your ‘losing my virginity party’ back in ’71 – I assume that’s the party you mean?
I don’t remember that reference and there must be a mistake – at that point my virginity was a dim and distant memory.
Are diamonds forever?
Well, of course they are. Would James Bond lie about such a thing?
Birthdays never had the anticipation and excitement of Christmas.
Where I was raised, at school, primary and secondary, if your “chums” got wind that it was your birthday they would each take delight in punching you hard with knuckles on the upper arm. One punch for each year.
Totally unconnected, if you went to school with obviously new shoes, again your muckers would stamp hard with their heels on each shoe. So always walk through mud in your new shoes.
But you, in your daughter, have a true diamond. Not a mere lump of the dreaded carbon.
And you know it.
All the best people were born on 19th February. Like… erm… you and… oh yes, me. Happy birthday youngster.
And belated Happy Birthday to you. We belong to an exclusive club.
Happy Birthday old man. 🙂
A rather late Happy Birthday my friend. Mine’s coming up in March but I’m not really sure how old I’ll be. Once past 60 it’s all the same to me. And there’s the thing about how old I actually feel? I’ll ignore that one altogether.