16th Dec 2010

With a title like that, this sounds more like a diary than a blog. I just couldn't muster up a title. Sue me.

I visited my nan yesterday. Turns out that is was her birthday. The clues were there when I walked in. Dozens of birthday cards that weren't there the day before, and balloons with "90" on them.
Who knew that they even made balloons with "90" on them? I had to look closely to make sure somebody hadn't just added a "0" to more ordinary "9" balloons.
By the time you reach 90 years of age everything is dangerous to you, including balloons. They are a trip hazzard for a start. They "drift". One impact from a balloon could break a 90-year old's hip. They create static electricity. One spark from a balloon and my nan's polyester cardigan could go up in flames. Still, it won't be my fault if anything happens to her and that's the most important thing.
Oh, and with how racist old people can be, I'm surprised she allowed different colour balloons in the house.

Anyway, after skillfully avoiding the last 89 of her birthdays, I felt that a card might be expected of me. Not by my nan, you understand. Nan is happy to have nothing, and tells me this every year. But the family frowns upon you if you don't follow protocol when it comes to these things. I tend to get frowned upon more than most, so I thought the card would help.

Fortunately I had a friend whose birthday had fallen upon the same spawning day as my nan, so I had popped into Poundland earlier to buy her a card (no expense spared), and who knew that you could pick up FOUR almost decent cards for a pound?
Wicked! As they say.

So, I had 3 spare cards. So, I had nan's birthday covered. So.........into the bathroom with a pen.

I managed to get it written within two flushes.

Handed her the card and she said "Thank you" and placed it on the mantlepiece. Didn't even open it. Can you feel the love?

She then spent the next half an hour telling me that she didn't want a fuss.

Nan: "I told them not to bring it up. Don't mention it! But they had to go and put it on facebook"

Me: *my really high voice "You know about facebook!?"

Nan: "They're taking me out for a meal on Saturday. Thirty of the family. I've told them I don't want a cake. And I especially don't want everyone singing happy birthday. It's embarrassing!"

Me: "Well yes. And there's copyright issues."

Nan: "I've told them! If they sing happy birthday to me, the next time it's their birthday, I will stand on the table top and SCREEEEEEAM and SCREAM! See how they like it."

That is one family dinner that I would love to see.

Oh, and I wasn't invited to nan's birthday dinner. Can you feel the love?