This weekend I became 37 years old. What with taking care of Dolores and Tom it almost completely slipped my mind. However, even though Dolores can’t get out of the house, she co-opted her parents, and I did get some presents from Dolores and Tom, even a small bottle of pink champagne, which was simply excellent when sipped in our garden at noon beneath the shade of our giant parasol. We had a very nice mini-barbeque event to celebrate it.
Actually, I found it quite refreshing that I had ‘forgotten’ my birthday – no week long gloomy considerations of what I did or did not do last year, where I went wrong and what I still want to accomplish. Instead a real surprising ‘hey! It’s my birthday’!
A few things I’m scratching of my list of still-to-do’s, as these are becoming fairly unrealistic time-wise :
– being rich before my fifties – naaaaah, foggeddaboudit
– stopping with work when I’m fifty – nope, won’t get there either
Other than that, I feel very happy at what I accomplished already – I have a son and a wife I adore, a family worth having, and a house with a great big garden worth living in. And Belgian Summers are becoming more and more real summers, or should that be ‘greenhouse’ summers ?