Never Too Old to Learn...

And so it came to pass. Three hundred and sixty-five days after my 1st lockdown birthday, I had a second. Cue tiny violins and an outpouring of sympathy. (Sarcasm klaxon. Obviously don't.)

 The forced fun of 2020

Despite the emerging pattern, this birthday felt very different from last year's. My overriding memory of March 2020 was a determination to force enjoyment into my day. I had to do something to blot out the panic and fear that was gripping the nation. That could all be dealt with later on. After my special day. Last year I found myself filling my birthday with activities to make me feel like it was OK. In the end, it was, but I had no idea it would be. All plans were off. No hotly anticipated, well organised fun times could take place. It was all down to my wits. I managed.

This year, the vibe felt a gazillion light years away from that. Sure, there was still the boredom in the run up. The ennui and monotony of everything. I've completely forgotten what it's like to have restaurant plans or to see a bunch of friends and family. My Australian cousin messaged with a 'hope it's not another lockdown birthday' sentiment and I realised I'd forgotten that other parts of the world had got their shit together. My Twitter timeline is currently full of the Melbourne Comedy Festival. Last week it was the Adelaide Fringe. In New Zealand there was footage of a gig. I see it with my eyes but I don't realise it affects everyday people in the rest of the world. The rest of the world - or large parts of it at least - seem to be cracking on. 

Meanwhile I was celebrating forty-three years on the planet from the restrictions of my lockdown life. Despite the continuing lockdown-ness of it all, this birthday was well better than last time. Basically, there's no panic or fear anymore. Whether that's sensible or not, isn't the question. It's simply how it is in my head. This year, I'm used to it. I've not spent the past fortnight watching plans A to B to Z gradually get taken away. This year I've felt all the control. All the control of someone not allowed to leave her local area or enter another household unless it's an emergency. Obviously. But this year has definitely been better.

A dramatic reconstruction of
my waking birthday moments.

So what did I do? Of course you want the deets. I'll share them happily. Here's my birthday timetable from last week. Enjoy!

• 6.30am cup of tea in bed with Shrine of Duty podcast. What kind of knobby signal was that?
• Read a few chapter of current book in bed. The Glass Room by Ann Cleeves.
• Fielded messages from friends and family like I was PA to a busy person.
• Wore a new top and new Christmas boots. (Still waiting to wear them out and about for real.)
• Went for a drive and sang along to George Michael and Eurovision. All the greats.
• Driveway chats with friends, and then my baby nephew turned up (with brother and sister-in-law) for bonding fun by the front door.
• FaceTimes with my two nieces, my other nephew, and my goddaughter.
• Walked to a local beer garden. Coincidentally, a friend happened to be there at the same time. What are the odds? Discussed all the topics.
• Middle Eastern mezze with my bubble of three for tea. There was no end to the amount of hummus I consumed.
• Champagne. They say when a man is tired of Paris, he is tired of life. When Bondie is tired of Champagne, she is asleep.

Birthday tea, plus
subsequent day's leftover
meals, from Arabica.

Let's face it, the bar was really low. It was really low at Christmas and it's really low now. It'll be really low for ages. But how fab to be here. How marvellous to find joy in a morning cup of tea. How lovely to sit 

with a mate in an empty beer garden and put the world to rights. How boss to grin at my little nephew who has only ever known Covid Britain and see him utterly confused by the mad woman in his face. By the time I got to my fancy schmantzy delivered food, it had been a brilliant day. Next year, or maybe even the year after, all this is will be a memory. And of course I'm going to love eating in restaurants and getting crowds of people together to give me attention on my 44th or 45th or whenever. But what a lesson it is, to be taught to make the best of not much. Because when you can do that, you have everything. 

Have a lovely week, folks.