Happy Birthday,,,,,,,again!

Not again!  Do I have to have another one?

  It only seems 5 minutes ago that it was my last birthday. We were looking around De Montfort University and I was feeling very spoilt with a box of Maltesers, the British Bake Off Book, a novel and a handbag.  I was weighing up the dilemma of whether to reply to all the Happy Birthdays on my Facebook page, just 'like' them or ignore them completely.

Well, nothing has changed.  I'm still 42;  a number I chose to stick at being a huge fan of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.  I still feel very spoilt.  I got a box of Maltesers, the British Bake Off Book and a novel.  I also got a sewing machine, which I will tell you more about in a minute and a book of Leicester Football Club Trivia.  Yesterday, I went to De Montfort University, to drop my daughter back home (and it's wonderful that she's settled in so well that she does feel like it's home).  I'm also having the annual Facebook dilemma and so everything is the same.  Life just goes round in ever decreasing circles.

The only thing that's different is that I'm even more grumpy than I was last year.  The poor Long Suffering Husband couldn't do anything right this weekend.  He pointed out a bit of "seventeen year old dirt" on the banisters and I slammed the door, taking the dog for a long walk.

I sort of hate having a birthday.  I love other people's birthdays.  I like choosing cards and presents, making cakes planning treats but when it's my own there just seems to be so much pressure.  The LSH spent the weekend grinning and singing, "Happy Birthday to you for tomorrow....the day after tomorrow....etc.," Unfortunately, every time he did I just wanted to hide.  The thought of getting into bed and pulling the duvet over my head and shouting, "Come and get me when it's all over," was really appealing.

About a month ago, the Long Suffering Husband said, "What do you want for your birthday, this year?"  "You know what, I think I'd like a sewing machine,"  I replied.  I even showed him a sewing machine that I thought would be good and it wasn't too expensive. A few weeks later he asked me again and I was suspicious that it wasn't the present he wanted to buy.  I'm not completely insensitive and thought it might be because my current sewing machine belonged to his mum and we inherited it when she died. This machine has been playing up for a while, the tension slipped as you sew and I had been to find out about repairs, which would cost more than a new machine.  I hadn't told him this because I didn't think he'd be very interested.  The "What do you want for your birthday?" had started to become more desperate sounding, "Have you decided what to do about your birthday, yet?" and the he downloaded the instruction manual for his mum's machine for me.  She got it in 1972 and although it didn't solve the problem of the slipping tension, I have now got a pattern for a fabulous bat-wing dress.  And maybe being grumpy works because I also have a new sewing machine and the poor LSH is under no illusion as to what I think of his attempts to get me to fix the old machine.

Luckily, I've shared my horrible cold with my son and so today will be a duvet day, feeling sorry for ourselves, going round in circles, repeating the same old patterns.