The problem with birthdays

Especially the number 86

You don’t want a fuss. Then you wish there was a fuss. If you wanted a fuss, why did you say you didn’t want a fuss?

What are you doing for your birthday today, Rachel? Oh a swim and a coffee with my darling friends. Then gym. And choir tonight as usual. Anyway we had a family lunch last week with a cake and candles and all, so it kind of happened then.

This morning a whopping big new thought hit me: now that I’m 86, I could say, ‘In four years I will be 90.’ Suddenly we’re getting serious. I’m already old, I know that. I think of 90 as the time when I will qualify as extremely old.

I rushed to interrogate my computer about the meaning of 86, because surely it must have other, more elevated implications. Belly punch:

verb: 86

1. eject or bar (someone) from a restaurant, bar, etc.

   “they were accused of cheating, and eighty-sixed from their favourite casino”

2. reject, discard, or cancel.

   “the passwords will be 86ed by next October”

But my birthday will turn out beautifully anyway. It always does. I will report back.