ANOTHER PASSING YEAR.
To-day is my Birthday, Geburtstag, Anniversaire, or Cumpleanos, whatever you want to call it. To some this is really a big day but to me, to be honest, it is just another day on the calendar. At 8:30 this morning I was sound asleep in the arms of Morpheus when the phone ringing beside my bed smashed through the wall of slumber. It was my Grandson calling to wish me a Happy Birthday before he went off to school. It was really nice of him to do so but it left me to ponder whether I should get up or curl back up in the fetal position pull the blanket over my head and return to Morpheus for the rest of the day.
Come 11:45 p.m. (23:45) this evening I will officially turn 72 which means roughly ¾ of my life has passed that is if I’m lucky or unlucky to reach 100 years. Here again to be honest I don’t think I want to be around at 1oo years. Hell at 72 I look bad enough what would I look like at 100, aTroll? Damn 72 years have gone by since I was born smack dab in the middle of WWII in a town on Scotland’s south west coast. Five years later I would disembark along with my Mother and step-father on Canada’s east coast to spend the rest of my life, with the exception of six and a half years, here. I would grow up, go to school, chase the girls, marry, and have two beautiful daughters. A lot more happened in those years but this is not an autobiography which would bore the hell out of anyone who read it. Nope just an average Joe whose main accomplishments in life was to father two fantastic girls and survive until now. When people ask me how I’m doing I quip “still short, fat, bald, and ugly”. That pretty well describes the author as I am short (5’7”) overweight (107kg) bald, wear glasses and hearing aids (which I manage to conveniently forget) I can’t forget the glasses as I’d walk into wall or off a cliff. One thing though that hasn’t changed. I still Love the Lassies.
So here I sit at 10:30 a.m. on what is supposed to be a happy occasion wondering what I am going to do with the rest of the day. Oh. Well not to worry really I’ll come up with something as I usually do. So in the height of hubris I will wish myself a most Happy Birthday and not too many more. O.K. maybe another 28.