Oldie Times

I was so excited yesterday, not so much because I was 60 but because it was my birthday.
I have to admit that the day before, on the 23rd, the realisation that I was turning old hit me like a demolition ball.
I don’t know what it means to be sixty only that it felt like it had to be honoured.

I walked into LBC. The cold sun shone.
My mobile didn’t stop ringing, which was nice.
I chatted up a man carrying a ladder, flirting and making sure that he didn’t think I was 60 – which he didn’t.
By the time I got to Leicester Square I swear I thought I had to have a hip replacement, my thoughts worrying at me about the onset of infirmity, the old git says that’s normal.
I bought a cake from my new favourite coffee shop The Fiori on the corner of the square.
All fruit and a massive unctious cheese and biscuit base.
The office had prepared for the day by buying me a huge bunch of flowers and a card signed by all the young things. Boss, Johnathan Richards, who shares my birthday, took the day off. Matt Schofield who also shares our birthday didn’t. So we two stuffed our faces with the rich cake took the applause and set about making a show.
So many of you texted, emailed and phoned in with filicitations it couldn’t have been better. One caller asked what my problem was that I needed so much affirmation, no problem love, just wallowing in total self-indulgence…
LBC gave me car to get back to the flat. I nearly shouted at the Macedonian driver who was a miserable sod, but I let his negativity wash over me and arrived with fifteen minutes to spare before Jim took me to the acupuncturist.
The ‘Oosbind had brought up all my cards from home and hung a ’60’ year birthday bunting across the french windows. It was lovely. The flat now looks like a funeral home with more flowers than Interflora and cards everywhere and that’s before the party on Saturday night, we’re expecting over a hundred people if health and weather hold.
My acupuncturist stuck needles all over my face to keep my chins up and gave me four needles for my destiny…..according to my astrological friends I am in my solar return. Everything that happened sixty years will come round again. Does that mean I shall be peeing my pants – probably.It’s the Chinese ‘Year of the Ox’, I am an earthy ox which means even though I am the slowest of them all I am the surest. Also, as far as I can tell, credit crunch or no credit crunch I shall get what I want with hard work and diligence. Bearing in mind that the art of getting what you want is knowing what you want in the first place which, in my case, is still a work in progress.
Jim collected me, Bee and Nathan turned up, Shakeel arrived with my new out-fit for Croydon and then off we went to Nancy Lams for supper.
Very low key and lovely. The young folk went before us, we stayed and chatted to Nancy, then it was back to the ranch.
Jim and I sat on the edge of the settee as I opened up cards and gifts. They all touched me. The quilt from Canada, the jar of Marmite with the silver top and knife, the Swedish horse, the clutch bag covered in sequins, sunflower seeds and a wonderful painting of a girl in dungarees from a paraplegic relative of a girl friend. The beautiful, red watercolour had been painted by her cousin by holding the brush in his mouth.
By the time I had dealt with yet more e-mails is was bedtime. I fell asleep mid sentence but isn’t that to be expected from an old fart?
The oven man is scrubbing my oven in readyness for the weekend, the old git is asleep in bed, I have just over an hour before I walk into town, do a show then set about sorting Croydon.
Do I feel anti-climactic? I won’t feel anything until after Thursday nights gig, then when the pressures off I shall relax into realising that I am an old age pensioner with a free travel pass if I can find out where to get one……….