I think I am sufficently over the trauma of turning 50 to mention it here now.
It started in an inauspicious manner whilst I was having a wee.
Now my arms are quite nice I think. They have never caused me any grief before anyway. I do some weight training so shape wise they are OK, and hair wise they are fair and I have never had to get the hairs removed because they are not noticeable.
Or at least - they were not noticeable before I turned 50.
So there I was perched on the loo contemplating my advanced number of years when on my left arm I see not one but two bloody great long dark hideous hairs! "That's it!" thinks I. "I turn 50 and instantly start sprouting unsightly bodily hair. It will be my nostrils next, then my chin." First job on the morning of my birthday therefore involved my tweezers. I swear they were the only long dark hairs I have EVER seen growing on my arm. I hope they will be the last. I assumed the day could only improve.
For a treat for myself I had booked a facial at the gym I go to. It is very rare that I have one of these, but of course they are blissfully relaxing as well as good for (maturing) skin and I was very much looking forward to this.It was booked for 12, and then at 1.30 I was due to meet a friend for lunch. I arrived on time, but it was a bit late starting. I guess the therapist finally got going by about quarter past 12. I am not trying to be cheeky when I tell you that I was only wearing my knickers and was being kept nice and cosy by some thick blankets. What I was wearing is a Need to Know detail.
About ten minutes passed and I was just drifting into a delightfully semi conscious state when we were rudely interupted by the bell. By the fire alarm bell to be precise.
At first I think we both assumed they were merely testing the bell, but as it wailed on and on my beauty therapist said "I'm sorry, but that isn't a test." Other members of staff started hammering on our door for us to evacuate the building. They wanted me to go out as I was - just wrapped in a blanket. I wasn't having that, but did end up throwing on some jeans and a tee shirt watched by three complete strangers all urging me to hurry up. I am at least grateful that the face mask had not at that stage been put on. I am also grateful I wasn't one of the poor sods who had been in the swimming pool. It was a sunny day but not one sunny enough to make one want to stand around outside wearing nothing but a wet costume, as some unfortunate people had to do. I was freezing. They must have been in real danger of catching hypothermia.
We all hung around for I don't know how long whilst the building was checked from top to bottom. By the time we were given the all clear there was no time for me to carry on with the facial and still see my friend, so the facial booked for my 50th birthday did not actually happen. It was rearranged, but nice as it was, it wasn't the same as having it on my birthday. And you might suppose that knowing the facial was to have been for my 'significant' birthday, they might have given me some compensation - but you would suppose wrong.
Lunch would have been nicer had my friend not just been made redundant from her job to which she has devoted the last 17 years of her life. She obviously made an effort for my sake, but was just as obviously struggling.
Reidski was working and the kids had wanted me home in the evening so I didn't see him that day. They were, in the event, obviously knackered by having been forced to make an effort the day before (Sunday) when we had lots of family round, and thus the two that were in spent the evening either asleep on the sofa, or browsing on Facebook. I ended up with no one to talk to and so went to bed at 9.30 with a book.
I am not really complaining. Events around the actual date were very special and will never be forgotten. I just think that there is some irony in the fact that the actual date - one I had been focussed on for what was in hindsight a rather obsessive degree (why else did I go to the gym nearly every day in the year leading up to it?) - was a complete and utter non event.
Life can indeed be all Cobblers.
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