Another Year Older...

Not much wiser though.

So, it was my birthday last week. For some reason I only ever seem to remember my age every second year. It's like the even-numbered years don't exist for me so I get a very nasty shock when I realise I'm actually two years older than I thought I was. This happened last Thursday. Never nice.

I don't really like my birthdays. I'm not very good at accepting good wishes gracefully. Along with compliments and people paying for me in a restaurant, it makes me uncomfortable. Probably some psych thing I should work out and get over but can't really be bothered as it's only once a year. I do however always tend to be a little morose on the day.

I wish I'd actually had the forethought to take the day off work - I felt guilted into buying some biscuits for everyone at work (as it is a 'tradition' here to bring stuff in on your birthday) and by there-doing announced that it was an occasion and so got congratulations. Actually, they weren't too bad, realising I was grumpy about it, and left me pretty much alone, which was nice.

I did like my cake though. Carol made her first Black Forest cake and it was very successful as a chocolate cake... not quite as sure about the whole sour cherry thing, but I wanted a chocolate cake so I wasn't disappointed.

Other than that, I just kept wishing the day was over. And now it is for another year. So forth and so onwards.