Category Archives: Birthday

A Birthday First

It’s my birthday today and it is the first time I have ever worked on my birthday! Even as a child I was excused from having to go to school due to the date that it fell on and as I crept into adulthood, I always managed to find an excuse to take the day off.
 
“My wife has booked a surprise for me” I would say as I hand in the holiday request form, knowing full well I have nothing more planned than sitting in my pants all day eating chocolate cake.
 
I always felt sorry for the kids at school who had to come in on their birthday. Birthdays are the one day a year when you are allowed to be spoilt; twenty four hours of pure unadulterated selfishness. By going to school or work, you are shortening that already extremely small window considerably.
 
I said to my boss this morning that as this is the first time I have ever worked on my birthday, was there any chance that I could treat it a little differently.
 
“How do you mean” he asked, puzzled
 
“Put my feet up and take it easy” I said
 
“I thought you wanted to treat it differently!” he replied
 
Charming!
 
Another good reason for not going to work on my birthday is that I miss out on having to buy the cakes! Call me a grump, but why in the hell should I buy cakes for everybody when it is MY bloody birthday. Surely birthday’s are the one day a year when you can sit back and let other people buy things for you. Not once have I woken up on my birthday and thought “Never mind me everyone, here’s a couple of hundred quid, why don’t you go out and treat yourselves”
 
It must have all started somewhere. I imagine it started with the office junior one year. Fed up of sending them to fetch tartan paint and left handed screw drivers, someone somewhere told the office junior that when it’s their birthday they have to buy the cakes and this whole stupid birthday cake buying nonsense was born.
 
I’m on the evening train home now, looking forward to seeing my wife and child, but I can’t help feeling that I’ve been cheated. By insisting on sleeping for the first seven hours of my Birthday and then stupidly spending the next twelve hours at work, I have reduced my twenty four hour’s of unadulterated selfishness to just five; and that’s if I make it to midnight before falling asleep!
 
So, seven months pregnant or not, my wife’s got her work cut out this evening as she has only five hours to squeeze in a three course meal cooked from scratch, a luxurious massage followed by a perfectly run bath while providing some insightful and interesting chat about Watford’s chances of lifting the title this year.
 
I’m guessing she’ll be booking me a surprise next year!

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