Showing posts with label Birthday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Birthday. Show all posts

Sunday, 23 January 2011

The Social Network

So, last Thursday my normally quite dormant FaceBook page was a hive of activity...FBFs (that's FaceBook Friends) were stopping by all day long, with birthday greetings.... and the inevitable jibes about my impending old age.

Like this one....

FBF1: Happy Birthday old girl!! :) Have a wonderful day! Your chromed-walker is on back-order!

FBF2: ‎(fighting talk!! :) )

FBF1: But I should get brownie points for "chromed".. shouldn't I.. ?

FBF2: Perhaps gold encrusted with diamonds would have been in line for a single Brownie point.

FBF1: Wow, tough crowd.. Are you calling the birthday girl a hard-to-please?

Me [much later in the day]: Oi! Talking behind my back you two? Thanks FBF1...did you get a BOGOF deal when you ordered yours?

FBF1: Behind your back?.. thought they said the memory was the first to go.. sounds like it's the hearing for you, mate :) Sorry, I'm not up on the pensioner lingo.. BOGOF.. British Old Girl Something Something..? oh, is that buy one get one free,... is it.. nice one.. Can't order one for meself, there'd be nothing good to look forward to when I get to your age, dearie.. :))

FBF2: Haha, good one, Nat.

Who needs enemies, hey? But I do just love the way two people who have never met each other, sitting on other sides of the world... the one in LA, the one in South Africa... can have a "conversation" on my page like that. I guess that's why it's called social networking...





Thursday, 20 January 2011

Thursday, 21 January 2010

Party Like It's 1979



Birthdays these days come and go without much of a kerfuffle. Last night, B and me popped down to our local ‘gastro pub’ for a very enjoyable, yet quiet dinner and a 'couple' of glasses of wine, but that was all...

The days of wild, outrageously-themed parties, fuelled by obscene quantities of cheap alcohol and resulting in hangovers that last well into next week are long over for us. They sort of fizzled out when the seemingly never-ending round of raucous 21st and 25th birthday parties finally rampaged to an end in the last days of the 20th century. There was a momentary, half-hearted revival of the “Party Like It’s 1999” days for some 30th birthdays, but we never really got up off the couch long enough to cause a stir...we are officially Old Farts.

For me, the best birthday parties were those of my childhood. My birthday fell just before the end of the long, summer school holiday, when the days were hot and sunny and carefree. Birthday celebrations were simple affairs, usually only lasting a couple of hours at most and followed a set routine. The whole school class would be invited to arrive promptly at 2 pm, when the festivities kicked off with the party games... predominantly running races but also the old favourites of pass-the-parcel, balloon relay, musical bumps and scavenger hunt.

My older brother took charge of the games at my birthday parties...what a great brother! you’re probably thinking, but he did have an ulterior motive. Any prizes left over at the end of the party would usually be divided up between the two of us, so he suggested “Let’s not be too quick to dish out the prizes, Nat....the more left at the end means more for us!” I was not 100% keen on his plan, finding it a tad unfair on our gift-bearing guests...but back in those days I believed Big Brother knew best.

BB decided we’d set the bar high....awards would only be given to the winner of three races in a row, and then it was a chocolate frog or lollipop only for the child in first place, nothing for any others. As the house that my family lived in at the time had a huge garden that backed onto vacant scrubby bushland, these running races became mini marathons....and had two friends reaching for their steroid pumps long before the games were over. Strangely enough, before responding to their invites to my birthday party the following year, the asthmatic duo first asked if BB would again be organising the party games....

Hot and exhausted from all that running about, we’d gather round the dining room table, which would be laden with the feast that Mom had probably spent most of the previous week preparing. A typical menu at my parties would be a salty/sugary/E-number overload from a combination of crustless sandwiches, sausage rolls and mini meatballs, crisps, cheesey curls, fairy cakes, rainbow jelly cups, biscuit happy faces and ice cream cone clowns, all washed down with lemonade or cream soda.


The party would culminate in the age-old rendition of “Happy Birthday”, with blowing out of the candles and cutting of the novelty birthday cake...again imaginatively and painstakingly created by Mom. My favourites were a guitar (with liquorice strings), a chocolate cat (with liquorice whiskers) and a kitchen stove (complete with chocolate biscuit dials). Every child went home with a 'present' of a piece of cake wrapped up in a paper napkin (and the more athletic ones with a chocolate frog or lollipop).

As we grew older, the parties became more sophisticated and expensive, and therefore restricted to only close friends. Two of the more memorable ones I was invited to were lunch at Wimpy (hamburgers and milkshakes) followed by a trip to see 'Canonball Run' at the cinema, and an afternoon of unlimited ball sinking at the putt-putt (miniature golf) course. Summer swimming parties and sleepovers were all the rage aged about 10 to 14, and thereafter childish birthday parties were replaced with the dreaded teenage (boy-girl) parties....

Those painfully awkward times are best left forgotten.


Savage chickens found HERE

Wednesday, 20 January 2010

Happy Birthday To Me!



So, I’m 18 today...yeah, second time round. Thirty six??!! How did that happen? In my head, I’ve never aged beyond about 25 and I sometimes have to stop and think how old I really am... I know what you’re thinking and no, that’s not the early onset of senile dementia.

As a painfully shy child, I often daydreamed about how mature and sophisticated I would be by the time I reached my mid 30s. I always imagined myself with immaculate hair and make-up, wearing power suits in pastel shades with big shoulder pads (you must realise that these futuristic visions were heavily influenced by the fashions sported on TV soaps of the Dallas and Dynasty era), confidently being Very Busy And Important in my Very Busy And Important job.

Ummm....most days, you’ll find me in my home office, barefaced and attired in my baggy old jeans, fleece and slippers...naturally still being Very Busy and Important, writing about... er.... bums and oozing wounds... and other tantalising topics.

In the UK, cars over three years’ old have to pass an annual Ministry of Transport test (known as the MOT) that checks the vehicle’s safety, roadworthiness and exhaust emissions. Given that one car year is the equivalent of twelve human years (you know, like seven cat years to one human...nah, I just made that crap up!) I figured it’s time for me to take a body MOT.

So, how am I doing as I commence the downhill slide to the big 4-0? What sort of shape am I in? Not too shabby I think/hope...I still have my own, naturally brunette hair (one or two silvers bravely put in an appearance every few months but they soon find the sharp end of the tweezers), all the usual teeth (plus a few extras...yeah, freaky hyperdontia thing going on in my mouth!), all limbs in reasonable working order, and I still have my tonsils and my appendix too (we don’t need them but nice to have, all the same!).

I very nearly lost a toe aged nine in a bizarre yet predictable accident involving a sharp piece of metal, and me running past in my bare feet....blood and gore, toe hanging by a thread... but thankfully our GP lived down the road and stitched it back on promptly, albeit ever so slightly crookedly. And despite all my drunken attempts to destroy my liver in my first couple of student years, that organ is still present and (hopefully) functioning well, given my now very infrequent intake of alcohol.

I have lots of laughter lines around my (still unbespectacled) eyes...but hey, at least I’ve laughed a lot and possibly been laughed with/at. Won’t be booking the botox jabs just yet (Amanda Holden and Danii Minogue have done wonders putting me off those with their immotile looks). A bit of extra padding in the seat cushions...but as we learnt last week (on HERE), that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Let’s draw a veil over the emissions levels (if no one hears you parp or belch, it doesn’t count).

Overall verdict: I just pass inspection and am deemed fit to go out in public for another 12 years. You have been warned....

[Next MOT scheduled for: 20 January 2022]


Wednesday, 21 January 2009

January 20th, 1974






On this day, 35 years ago, I entered this world....what was happening at the time?





I was born in Zimbabwe, which at that time was called Rhodesia with Ian Smith as Prime Minister. At the time, civil war, known as the ‘Bush War’ by White Rhodesians and as the ‘Second Chimurenga’ (or 'rebellion' in Shona) to supporters of the Front for the Liberation of Zimbabwe, was ongoing and would culminate in the creation of the Republic of Zimbabwe under Robert Mugabe in 1980.



South of the Limpopo River, Prime Minister Balthazar Johannes Vorster (better known as John Voster) was following white public opinion in South Africa by supporting Rhodesia publicly, but was unwilling to alienate important political allies in the United States by extending diplomatic recognition. Later that year, he would pressurise Ian Smith to accept in principle that white minority rule could not continue indefinitely.Nelson Mandela had already been incarcerated at Robben Island Prison, off Cape Town, for 10 years.


On the other side of the Victoria Falls, Kenneth Kaunda ruled Zambia as a one-party state, while Seretse Khama was the first president of a democratic Botswana. The Front for the Liberation of Mozambique were mounting their guerrilla campaign against Portuguese rule, and would take control of the territory by April that year, gaining independence from Portugal the following June.




Internationally, the Cold War was simmering away, the ‘Iron Curtain’ was firmly in place and there was an East and a West Germany. Leonid Brezhnev was leader of the USSR (which comprised 15 'union republics') and Richard Nixon was in the White House. In just over a week’s time, Nixon campaign aide, Herbert Porter, would plead guilty to the charge of lying to the FBI during the early stages of the Watergate investigation. Nixon’s resignation would follow 8 months later.Mao Zedong was Chairman of the Communist Party in China.



The United States had withdrawn from Vietnam the previous year, but fighting still continued between the communist North and the government of South Vietnam. Two days earlier (18th January), Egypt and Israel had signed an armistice agreement officially ending their 1973 war. The agreement became known as Sinai I because it was signed in the Sinai peninsula and involved Israel’s occupation of that strategic desert. Sinai I had been achieved after a heavily publicised week of shuttling between the two countries by US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, who for his efforts was hailed in the media as the 'Superman of diplomacy'. It was only later that American taxpayers would learn that Sinai I laid the groundwork for the start of unprecedented massive aid to Israel by the United States, which continues to this day.

British Prime Minister, Edward Heath, still had two months’ tenancy on Number 10 Downing Street, before Harold Wilson (Labour) would move in for his second term. A fortnight earlier, the Conservative Government had introduced The Three-Day Week to conserve electricity during industrial action by coal miners.

Conflict (‘The Troubles’) was ongoing between elements of Northern Ireland's nationalist community (principally Roman Catholic) who wanted Northern Ireland to be politically reunited with the rest of Ireland, and the unionist community (principally Protestant) who wanted it to remain part of the United Kingdom.

Trousers made from about four square miles of fabric (typically polyester - the new staple fibre) had begun making an appearance, together with massive shirt collars, so big that you glided if you fell over. Platforms were everywhere, but had not yet reached the heady heights of 1975, when, to be 'hip', at least 2 inch soles and 5 inch heels were required.While the 'No Style' hairstyle was the barnet of choice, the mullet was already popular, due in part to the influence of David Bowie, who wore the haircut circa 1972-1973.



'The Sting' (Paul Newman and Robert Redford) and the original 'The Exorcist' were showing in US cinemas, and Peter Benchley's novel, 'Jaws', had just been published (16th January).

The New Seekers were top of the UK singles’ chart with their second biggest hit, 'You Won't Find Another Fool Like Me'. Towards the end of 1971, the group had recorded an adaptation of the Coca-Cola jingle, ‘I'd Like to Buy the World a Coke’. Reworked as ‘I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing’, the song became a worldwide success.




The top selling album that week was ‘Sladest’ by glam rock group Slade.Meanwhile, in the US, Al Wilson’s ‘Show And Tell’ was the #1 single, and Jim Croce’s ‘You Don't Mess Around With Jim’, first released in 1972, was in its second week at the top of the album chart. Renewed interest had been sparked in Jim Croce’s albums following his premature death in a small commercial plane crash in September 1973. He is probably best remembered for the songs ‘Bad, Bad Leroy Brown’ and ‘Time in a Bottle’, both #1 hits in 1973.



'Time In A Bottle' by Jim Croce (written for his unborn son):
If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day 'til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you.
If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure and then
Again I would spend them with you.
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find themI've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go thru time with.
If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty except for the mem'ry of how
They were answered by you.
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go thru time with.