The Monday after The Weekend That Was

So, I'm 40.
Do I feel different?
No.
Maybe slightly more relaxed than I did this time last week, but nothing more than that. You may not have noticed, but I don't really like being the centre of attention; I like to drift through life being treated with unrecognition and indifference.  So knowing that a day is going to be all about me and my advancement in age has never really sat comfortably with me. And the bigger the effort being made by others, the more that feeling seems to be magnified. So the last couple of weeks have been a bit Hellish, as people have been constantly reminding me what was coming and wanting to ask me questions about it.
In the end, it was a lovely weekend, thank you. I got to see the people I would want to see, I didn't allow myself to feel pressured into doing something 'huge' and I tried to ignore the silly little voice in my head telling me how much closer to Death I am now...
Philippa - who is now officially qualified, by the way, although she doesn't have the documentation through yet - gave me a lovely birthday massage. Mathew had drawn me a beautiful picture on a home-made card and really seemed to get that it was my birthday and he was a gem to me all day. A few people dropped round, a lot of people messaged, and it was just.... nice. That's such a naff word to use, but it sums it up for me really. It was just NICE. And that's more than good enough for me, thank you.

RC 22-1-24