IT was my birthday a couple of weeks ago and no, I’m not telling you how old I am.
But judging by the sort of birthday cards I received, my friends (the few I have left after all my moaning) clearly believe I have reached my dotage.
Apparently I am no longer a suitable target for those corny joke cards the ‘younger’ community bounce off each other.
I didnt even get a card making fun of my being old. You know, the sort that make you seem glam until you get the punchline inside.
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| A year older...and no sign of any joke cards |
That one’s dreadful because I made it up. But you know what I mean.
Anyway, virtually every card I received was one of those schmaltzy affairs you send to great-grandma on her 97th birthday.
I’m talking about the pink ones covered with pretty flowers and the message To a Dear Friend.
Admittedly, I automatically orientate to this type of card for my 83-year-old stepmother - but with good reason. She gets the pink schmaltz treatment because she has no sense of humour – or sense of anything, for that matter.
Anyway, this plethora of pinko cards all but convinced me that my friends had made a pact to tell me subtly that, in their eyes, I am now officially OLD. The fact is I love funny cards…and always have done. Providing they are not too crude, that is.
I might be a boring old drone to some, but no one can say I don’t have a sense of humour. So I assume the reason no one sent me a card I could laugh at is that the entire planet now sees me as a coffin dodger.
I scoured the cards for even the slightest hint of humour and the nearest I could get to a giggle was one bearing the message ‘Especially For You…’’. Well, Who else would it be for, tonto?
That’s me off everyone’s Christmas card list. Now where did I put my Zimmer frame?
