49

I will spend most of today being this age, in preparation for another 364 days of doing likewise.

As often happens, life and family and other stuff have meant that the whole day won’t be a ‘me’ day. I’m glad about that: if you had told me 20 years ago that my day would have been interrupted by the activities of my own kids, I would have bitten your arm off. Plus, I may have to tread gingerly: my friends promised me a roistering night out last night with lashings of ginger beer.

49 seems strange- old people are 49 and I don’t feel old (although my hair has grown much greyer since the above photo 2 years ago); yet I became an adult 31 years ago. There are people born after me who have children older than me.

‘Happy Birthday to me’ says my inner narcissist….

2 thoughts on “49”

  1. I did the math and you must mean “There are people born after me who have children older than MINE.” As written, the statement is mathematically impossible.

    Any way, happy birthday. Someday, you will be 68, like I am now, and wonder that you ever thought 49 was “old”. Think of it this way, 49 is the new 39.

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