Another year older now
As you read this paragraph – I will numerically be a year older than I was when I wrote it!
Yes folks, it’s that time of year when I move from being sixty- something . . . to being sixty- something else.
If you want to send me a birthday cake, then a well known local supermarket do an excellent praline and chocolate ganache with a layer of crème . . . ( No cakes – you’re supposed to be dieting! – Ed).
But seriously, I reckon there are three kinds of birthdays.
There’s the childish one you used to look forward to – getting lots of presents and all the attention.
There’s the adult version – you pay them little attention - and for significant numbers like 30 or 40, you try to completely ignore them altogether.
And finally, there’s the senior birthday – you’re not that bothered, the number means nothing . . . but you’re still hell of a glad to have clocked up another one!
For my 50th – I went on a pub crawl along 50th Street in midtown Manhattan.
A barman set up a drink and told me “The only down side of fifty is that you finally realise there are more birthdays behind you than ahead of you!”
I’ve recalled his cheery words every birthday since.
And every year - I’m more determined to prove him wrong!