Happy Birthday?
Take a deep breath, Gloria …
I wasn’t dreading my 50th birthday, really I wasn’t: I haven’t been properly scared by much, ever, except the idea that Room 101 might be full of maggots, although I was once nearly sick with scaredyness as I was swung wildly to-and-fro in the top cradle of a ferris-wheel and I’d still rather crawl across broken glass than get on such a ride again.
The other thing I really, really don’t like are those big, leggy house-spiders – the sort that run out from under the sofa and straight at you, casting a hideous shadow all the way. Urgh. Other than that I’m a game old bird and as like as not to face up to most challenging situations with nary a curler out of place. I’ve certainly never before in my life dreaded something as inevitable as a birthday.
Indeed, the Big Three-Oh was welcomed with open (bingo-wing-free) arms and I must have had so much fun I can’t remember what I did. The Big Four-Oh held no fears for me either and (still bingo-wing-free) I had a huge party in our huge garden and enjoyed myself v. much. So naturally I wasn’t dreading the imminent Four-Nine at all, even though the bingo-wings have taken hold and most of my midriff looks like it’s being tackled on every other Thursday by a myopic Quilting-Bee. “Hah!” said I, “Bring it on, bring on the thick-middled dowdiness, for I am a happy woman, loved and cherished by my family!”
So it was that my birthday came to be. It started well, with fond birthday wishes from my beloved who made me some v. nice coffee and then rushed off excitedly to fetch my present from the shed in which it had been hidden from my gaze. Traa-Laa-Laa, Happy Birthday girl and all that.
Then Mr Smudd walked in carrying a big box wrapped in a thin blue plastic bag. “Here’s your present, my darling,” he said, “I’ve had it for ages and I chose it especially!”
I could see through the thin blue plastic bag. I could see what this box contained. I have never been so astonished in my life.
“I can see what it is,” I said. “I don’t believe my eyes, but I can see what you have got me”, I said.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” said he. Then he said “Ho-ho-ho-hoo-hoo-hoo-haaa-haaa-chortle-grunt-laugh-titter-choke-haa-haa-thunk-titter-snork-haa-ha-go-on-open-it!”
To be honest, I haven’t been as astonished by my husband’s choice of birthday presents since he gave me a finger-shredding kitchen mandolin, a cast-iron frying pan and a book on the criminally insane. I thought then that I should stand on the book, grate his neck down to its jugular with the mandolin and finally cave his skull in with a blow from the cast-iron pan. But I didn’t. Which is why he lived to give me this present.
And this plastic-bag-shrouded gift really took the biscuit.
It was a massive remote-controlled tarantula with a leg-span of 10”. According to the instructions it “walks, runs and spins”. It does all those things, very fast, while casting an impressive shadow.
I think no more needs be said on how my beloved husband chose to mark my 49th birthday.
And now I’m really, really, REALLY dreading my 50th.
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1
September 18, 2010 at 07:55 -
Happy birthday you old git, its mine tomorrow and your really just a sprog.
I’ve gone through the ‘life’ begins at 40…50.. but still waiting for it to start.
I’ve avoided ALL fairground rides for about 30 years after entering a centrifugal thing at Blackpool after several pints and rejecting my stomach contents on all passerbys. Happy days. -
3
September 18, 2010 at 09:36 -
Can you be honest, Gloria, and tell us what YOU haven given Mr. Smudd for his birthday[s]? I mean, his present hasn’t been inspired on your own incomparably “special” sense of humor, has it …?
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4
September 18, 2010 at 11:46 -
You have to retaliate with something that takes batteries. It’s only fair…
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8
September 18, 2010 at 10:41 -
That’s so sweet! This brings back some mixed emotions about this. Some time ago I had friends from whom I have become sadly estranged. They had three daughters including the obligatory sulking teen (“the Incredible Sulk” as she was known) and a destructive one of about 6 (also known as “the Concrete Pixie”). However they had a middle one about 8 who was a fantastic and a proper tomboy. At Christmas a little while ago I an my then wife were to spend some time with them. What to do for presents for the girls? I can’t remember what I got the other two, but in last minute Christmas shopping my eye fastened upon the massive remote controlled tarantula which you describe. I duly purchased the same, and still remember the whoops and shrieks of delight when it was open and still more delighted and frenzied whooping and screeching as raced about, terrifying everyone in a rather entertaining way. So lovely memories there, but also a sad time, for reasons not material to this matter.
You should know Mrs Smudd that from a guy’s point of view there is no higher compliment than to buy you a remote controlled tarantula!
G -
10
September 18, 2010 at 12:49 -
Mr Smudd has put *you* in control of what you fear. Use the robo-spider to scare off the real ones.
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11
September 18, 2010 at 13:00 -
Mrs. Smudd, or Gloria, it’s only numbers. I found 45 a tipping point – into panic. At 57 I was an angry old git. 63 next week, and I’m thinking there aren’t enough numbers left – shortage of breath and pains in the chest – if I can just hit the send button . . .
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12
September 18, 2010 at 13:27 -
Gratulerer med dagen!
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13
September 18, 2010 at 13:34 -
Remember swap shop?…….owz about swopping said tarantula for electric carving knife (one and only gift from partner to an ardent non- flesh eater)!
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14
September 18, 2010 at 13:54 -
Wonder if spiders give their children little remote-control humans which run about shrieking?
Happy birthday Gloria.
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15
September 18, 2010 at 14:45 -
16
September 18, 2010 at 14:50 -
Happy birthday!
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17
September 18, 2010 at 18:18 -
God loves a Virgo
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18
September 18, 2010 at 19:07 -
It’s the thought that counts – Mr Smudd remembered it was your birthday. May you enjoy every succeeding one with ever increasing pleasure.
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19
September 18, 2010 at 22:19 -
As the wise and often unquoted Chinese philosopher “Young No Mo” never said “getting older is shit but it better than only alternative”
Happy Birthday
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20
September 19, 2010 at 00:39 -
wait until you have passed 75. All your enemies are either dead or disabled but your wife is at her peak as a cook!
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21
September 19, 2010 at 10:09 -
My worst birthday present was a set of saucepans which cost my husband 200 Quid. It was a long time ago so 200 Quid was a lot of money. And I wanted a Chain Saw anyway. Needless to say, he didn’t last long.
However, in the Autumn of my life I can now look back on him with some affection since I have taken to forgetting that I lit the gas under the vegetables.
I do this often. But those dear old saucepans scrub up lovely every time.Happy Birthday, Glorias.
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