I’m being bullied by a blank page into stringing sensible sentiments together, purely on account of having had a birthday. What bollocks truly, that like clockwork every year comes an unspoken compulsion to get introspective and such. I’m all thunk out . . . though my birthday memory crate may just be worth digging through.
Once upon the earliest memory of my worst birthday, I was turning 10 … I think. As misfortune would have it, my textbook Wicked (i.e. Evil. NOT slang for cool) step mother ,decided that throwing a party would be a delightful idea. It would have been a down right stellar occasion, had she not been quite so dreadful. Bare in mind that although she disapproved; she knew all too well that I was textbook Tomboy, yet insisted on my wearing an itchy white meringue of a poofy dress, that I was prohibited from getting out of. This meant that I floated dismally on land, while watching all the other children splash about gleefully in the pool. So much for happy on that birthday.
Fast forward to what I suspect may have been my 19th birthday. What a surprise of a day. Assuming that I have the correct year in question; I would’ve been a 2nd time first year at WITS; and had by this point accumulated a vast array of friends , who for the most part knew very little of each other. One can imagine the happy lump in my throat when 2 friends from res, collaborated with my “Masters” (a trio of boys I spent countless occasions drinking with, at on off campus dodge spot called Veers); who in turn touched Base with the likes of Gareth (a notorious master mind). I was positively flabbergasted to find them all gathered at someone’s spot , in the name of surprising me with a celebration of ME! We all got our guzzle on; I cursed my way through a verbal altercation, & at some point I was suitably caught doing a smudge more than just making out in the bathroom with whomever’s spot we were at. That was a swell time.
As have been the past three years.
25 was a blast out at the park with unforgiving punch ; interruptive rain & an affair that was brewing right underneath my plastered nose.
26 entailed a road trip to Polokwane. A couple’s retreat of sorts. A scrumptious braai on the Saturday; where my sweet corn stuffed gem squash was quite the hit among all 3 couples (including the one I was one half of). Sunday began with champagne; then followed a late breakfast out somewhere with horses, & a squabble filled drive back to GP; with me as the boozy birthday girl of a passenger.
27 was a whimsical affair with masks & all & all. The Olive garden with it’s fitting fairy lights & palette pleasing Mediterranean menu, could not have been a better venue. It would just so happen that on that day I had to compete with a Chiefs vs Pirates match, so by default the celebrations in question verged on being a ladies luncheon. Gifts galore I tell you. I was blessed to the power of infinity on that day & everyday thereafter to be honest.
Along came 28 . LOVE! LOVE! LOVE! Apparently I’m bordering on depressed, so when this year came around, I wasn’t moved to be festive. Thank goodness that Lindy wouldn’t have it any other way & proceeded to invite someone’s to have birthday drinks with us at the pub across the road. The turn out touched me; the blunt fucked me & the shots kicked us ALL in the ass.
That being said. . . .Thank You! To anyone and everyone whose mind I ever crossed on any of my hatch days. Those who love me enough to stand me & especially those who made it a point to be part of my Tuesday: Lindy ; Taz; Nelis; Anele; Mimi; Tshego; Miss Mokoena; Foreman a.k.a Swiss Beats; Du Preez; Ntshepi ; Teddy; Spanky & brother; Lyric & George (in order of arrival. . . I think)
Thank You!
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