Wednesday 7 December 2016

Another birthday ... I think I need a lie down

Published 17/08/2015 | 02:30

Another year bites the dust. Another birthday over and done with. I know I say I only joined Facebook to stalk my son on the other side of the world but when it comes to birthdays I rather enjoy it. I don't widely publicise my birthday, primarily because of my declining years, but given that my Facebook 'friends' are informed of the event, they send greetings. Some of them anyway. I spent the whole day checking to see if people had sent me a message. I was like a child. I got lots of messages but there were those who were clearly on Facebook and didn't send me a greeting. They have been committed to memory.

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My son, who lives as we say in Cork if we are from the wrong side of the tracks, 'out foreign', rang me and told me that my other son was organising the present. My daughter told me the same. All three of them had chipped in and had gotten something 'decent'. Not too much goes on in my life anymore so my excitement was palpable. A holiday, liposuction, a face lift? The anticipation was killing me. I had to wait until evening time for the disclosure. I was out in a restaurant when the son who was doing the organising rang me to tell me what would soon be delivered to my door. Guess what? A new orthopaedic memory foam mattress!!

Now don't get me wrong. It's a brilliant present. I do have a bad back and the noises I make getting out of bed now are the ones I used to make during nights of passion. It's not the gift. It's the fact that this is now their perception of where I'm at. The auld wan with aches and pains.

It certainly wasn't bought for nights of passion. When I think back to a few weeks ago and texts from my son asking me whether I slept on my front or side, I should have twigged.

A strange question to be asked. But when I queried his weird interest, he informed me that he was trying to buy a new mattress for himself and needed advice. I just fear that next year it'll be a commode or a new set of teeth.

Sunday Independent

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