William Shakespeare wrote; “A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow” . Well, it certainly summed up the past week’s socialising. If I was totally honest, I can’t party like I did at 35 now I’m 53 but with friends like mine, I’d do it all over again. It is testament to them that this, my 2nd year celebrating my birthday without T, wasn’t going to go quietly and I thank them for it. I cannot describe the feeling of knowing I had a lie in however when I crawled under the covers last night. Laughter may be the best medicine (I certainly over dosed on that) but sleep has to be a close second.
Surprisingly, I’m not the least bit depressed about turning 53. For a start, my menopausal journey is just about over (yay!) and I’m about to start a new adventure in the year to come. Mind you, a visit to the optician last week did miff me just a tad. She asked me if I had started using the prescription driving glasses yet and I had to admit I hadn’t simply because I didn’t feel comfortable with them; ” Wear them around the house until you get used to them” she said, then she added ” you’re still just about within the legal limit to be driving without them”. Not exactly an advert for age-defining beauty then.
There is a rather nice thing about having a Hallowe’en birthday, once the witchy decorations are taken out of the shops, sickly festive pop takes over. Christmas is coming and I’m a Christmas nut. I’m already stock-piling the charity catalogues, perusing through the various pre-season online sales and checking my mother-in-laws cake recipe. I’ve been to the vet and checked that Arry, Alice and Yogi Bear have up to date passports (one small blessing about the delay to the B word) and booked the Eurotunnel. Judging by the excessive display of baubles and faux evergreen in the local DIY store, I’m just worried I’m running behind……
Widow plus woofs 