42

Today I turned 42 years old. In reality its just another day. I don't know if an anxiety thing or an age thing or a bit of both but time just passes and every day is the same as the last. I am alarmed some times when I look at the kids and think: where are my babies? The oldest is 10 years old and getting as big as her mum who at 5 ft 7 is not a short woman. So much just seems to pass me by and so little seems to sink in. I am a husband and father of three children and yet...I don't forget it but I don't seem to have fully clicked in with that reality.

Age is much the same. And birthdays. Cards, cake, presents and visitors. Yet it has not actually sunk in that I am a year older. Does it matter? Have I really changed since yesterday? Of course after our 21st birthdays don't mean as much. The final milestones. I guess deep down I am of the opinion that really for birthdays after that point to mean something they should be celebrated on each decade. Those "big birthdays". The big "X-0". That is the way to do it. I think they would mean something then and in between people could keep their cash for the kids instead of presents, cards and sometimes postage each year.

Society would not have that though. More celebrations and more often. Black Friday and all these new ones appearing. We must keep celebrating and spending. The more spend the more it means. Bigger and better and more unique. OK, I am a grumpy sod but if I ruled the world cards would be outlawed. I really don't see the point. Cards are easy, as well as expensive trash. If nothing else save the trees. When everything from films to financial transactions to music and games and all else is slowly moving to complete transparency lost in the electronic ether why are cards still around? Maybe its just a person thing. I would rather give my best wishes to a person face to face and failing the ability to do that then a phone call or, in this electronic age, Skype or Facetime or whatever else. A card costs more than a lunch to sit in someone's fireplace for a day and then is defunct. A short read and then binned. Postage- don't get me started.

Most infuriating of all though is late cards. Someone has gone to the trouble of shopping, spending money and paying postage for a card to come after the event. What use is that? A phone call will suffice. And bloody Royal Mail having the cheek to ask for payment on a shortfall because a card is a couple of inches bigger than it should be and this after the event- aye right! You know where you can stick that card. Yet someone has gone to all that effort and expense to send it.

Its more a pressure to do these things. Like at Christmas when the kids must send a card to everyone in their class. Its a labour for them. Not much of a cost but the whole things means nothing. Take the money they are all spending, put it together and instead of them sitting for a couple hours writing cards throw them a party with the funds. Given the choice in their unconditioned little minds I am sure they would prefer it.

Ah buggery. Its my birthday and here I am on a card rant. Not like me at all- well, maybe just a bit. I did have a good day even if it has not fully sunken in yet. I had some visitors too which was strangely more difficult than it has been for a while. I think because I am really pushing myself at the moment physically as well as mentally I am finding the fatigue very hard to deal with and so more anxious than usual.

But its been a good day and lost of cards. Yes those pesky cards. Only one stands out though. It was one my oldest daughter made herself. It means something. She did not have to make it as the kids gave me a joint card. She made it because she wanted to and so did it all herself from her own little imagination- not prepacked with words and images. And that to me means more.