On the Twentieth-Eighth of October in the Year of Our Lord, Two Thousand and Twenty, I celebrated my seventieth birthday. I woke up with, "Phew! I've made it!" My allocated lifespan is complete, I am content. I feel that if I had died younger, the cosmos would have cheated me somewhat.
Regular readers of this blog will be aware of my goal of living to be 106. This apparently random number, is the result of the calculation that I made that I needed to live to be 106 to get back the seven years worth of monthly contributions I put into an investment plan that pays me twenty pounds a month. I will not go into the ins and outs of my foolishness, time has blunted the edge of my wrath, and left me a lot less inclined to stick around to the over-ripe age of 106, given the state the world is in, and the fact that I do not wish to outlive my friends.
i had a typical coronovirus-aware day. 11am I went to church (Our Lady of Lourdes, Newent) to check the mail, sort out the Track and Trace Register for attendees, open the windows, refill the sanitisers, all the things "who-would have-ever-dreamed-we'd-be-doing-a-year-ago." Mass is at midday, celebrated by Fr Barnabas Page, who could not help himself but inform the gathered faithful that the 28th October as well as being my birthday, is the feast of St Simon and St Jude. You may not be aware that St Jude is the patron saint of hopeless causes ... I dutifully laugh.
After Mass, the privilege of taking Holy Communion to Ann and Lawson, who live close to by. It's the whole, mask-distance-sanitise routine all over again, but the solemn moment of giving and receiving the Body of Christ loses nothing of it's sacred beauty.
So, I'm home before three for a gin and a nap. Well, I'm seventy, I reason, and perfectly entitled to both!
I have a new top to wear out in the evening. I like it. It's pink and grey and a bit sparkly. I think it looks just fine.
"Reminds me of Manchester City's away strip." remarks my somewhat- less -than -better- half (on this occasion). He has been taking lessons on gallantry from his sons-in-law, but sometimes, he flunks the course.
I posh myself up, and at 4:30pm we head off with eldest daughter, Jen, through Gloucester, up the Cotswold escarpment, into autumn's blazing woods, to The Royal William, in the village of Cranham.
When the girls were growing up, we lived twenty minutes away, on the outskirts of the city, and came here for many celebrations. Hannah graduated from the children's menu, to steak, over there, Jen celebrated her 18th birthday in the next room, Kate recalled the occasion we carefully made our way down the poorly-lit steps from the car park and saw a glow worm by the path. I brought my staff here for lunch when I was appointed their headteacher. We sat at this very table. I decorously recounted 'walking' in the woods with boyfriends, and, as a child, exploring every rise and hollow of this ancient Holt's Wood with my brother Adrian.
it was a wonderful meal. Gifts were offered and gratefully received. There was cake.
Coming home, I reflected on how lucky I am: I have a wonderful family, seven amazing grandchildren, loyal friends, and a lifetime of amazing adventures to look back on, and be thankful for.
Final thought: I have many adventures to look forward to as well. As I never tire of telling anyone who stops to listen, "I'm only old on the outside!"
