Thirty, flirty and dirty

Only one of the words used in the title of this blog actually apply to me today. I’ve just had a bath, and my flirting days are behind me, so I’m sure you can work out which one it is. 
I dragged myself back into work today. No-one mentioned my birthday. No-one asked if I’d had a nice weekend away. They just starting asking me if it was lunchtime yet, and had I put through the orders for the weekend?
Bastards.
I’m not bothered though, not really. I had such a good time with Philippa this weekend that the angst and depression of working life is just bouncing off me. Long may that continue. Maybe that’s how life is in your thirties? You become more accepting of your situation, and lower your expectations of life, and have a more pleasant existence as a consequence. 
I’ve got quite an easy week really. I broke the habit of a lifetime and became selfish, and put myself on the 8am-4pm shift four days in a row. That means I can enjoy my evenings with Philippa, and then on Saturday I can be home by 5 to get ready for our big night out. Then on Sunday it’s all day at Ted and Beryl’s, then I have Monday off to recover. Marvellous.
I’ll never understand people who only celebrate their birthday on the day itself. Why not treat it like a festival and have yourself a week-long party? Especially if, like me, your birthday is in January. Everyone is poor and depressed after Christmas, and you can give them an excuse to go wild again.
In fact - if you are poor and depressed after Christmas, feel free to use my birthday as an excuse to go wild! I’m all about sharing the love and the fun, even if I’ve never met you.

RC 22-1-14