the garden party

One of us had a birthday.

Not me. I stopped all that ages ago.

For one week a year we have a garden in which we can happily host a party with cake and colouring and games.

Even the sun cooperated.

hoping

.

.

.

once there was a boy

He came into my life and nothing was ever the same.

I was no longer the only one.

He’s calm and measured; I flap and over-react.

He’s energetic and determined.

He’s curious.

He’ll always find his way.

He makes me laugh.

He’s not lost for words.

He’s the sporty, geeky, musical one.

He was a trend setter.

He wore the tshirt.

Now, he likes Noel Gallagher. Middle age comes to us all.

He does dad dancing now.

Happy Birthday, the Brother.

d’oh!

It’s all about the birthdays these days. Not just the one on 25th. Girl2 has just had hers, Herself would have had one last week, the old man, Granny and the Brother are all to come. The older generations aren’t here any longer to celebrate with us, but there are still smiles, warm thoughts, great memories.

And then there’s today. Happy Birthday, Spurs Fan. Sometime you’ll get a wife who remembers cards and cake, and where she’s hidden the presents …