quiet birthdays and creamy cakes

pink green and yellow ribbon illustration
Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

When you are eight you dream of mountains

Of presents wrapped in glitzy paper,

A bike with a voluminous bow on the handlebars

And a cake in the shape of Ed the Duck.

When you are eighteen you just wish for booze,

A night on the tiles, with shots and kebabs

And on the the age of twenty eight

Where things are a bit quieter, and you ask

For some sensible clothes for work

And boots and a rain jacket too.

Now I’m heading to forty, just two years to go –

And I think most people have forgotten

But now I take pleasure in the small things,

Some books from the charity shop

And a cake topped with strawberries and cream.

Thirty eight seemed so old, but now

It seems so wonderfully full.

I turned thirty eight today and I knew it was going to be a bit of a wash out because we’re all recovering from COVID and dad’s off on a trip with his friends.

However, I did venture out to the supermarket and so I also hit Matalan and the charity shops to get books and sensible trousers for work.

I had to smile at myself because I felt wonderfully happy and content. When I was drinking, I always wanted fireworks and crazy highs and having a bit of a naff birthday would have resulted in a meltdown where I blamed everyone around me for not loving me enough.

Today, I’m here with a Mug Shot cheesy pasta, Strictly Come Dancing and a strawberries and cream cake from Tesco, and it feels like me cup is half full.

I’m just hoping that when dad arrives tomorrow that he’s going to take me for a cheeky Nandos – then my cup will be overflowing.

Much Love

Rachel xx

is old love different?

old couple walking while holding hands
Photo by Noelle Otto on Pexels.com

We could use a tired metaphor about fruit

That is battered and bruised and shriveled

And how love is blind

To those glaring imperfections.

But that would be lazy, so I’ll do away

With poetic devices and ask what I want,

Do I have less chance of finding a love,

And when it is found, what is it like?

Can it be passionate or is it dulled down?

It’s colours muted, a sepia dream?

I am hurtling towards forty and while that is not old by any stretch of the imagination, it is an age that I’m sure makes a lot of us stop and think when we reach it. In an average life, it’s half way and that seems like the perfect time to pause and take stock.

And one of the things that I’m thinking about a lot is my lack of love. I think that after my childhood experiences and then a disastrous marriage when I was so young, I’ve scared myself away from it. It’s strange because I’m terrified of it and I also pine for it.

And now that I’m past that ‘normal’ age when people fall in love and get married and have a passionate relationship, I wonder what any relationship would look like. Would it even look any different?

I hear a lot of celebrities who have found love in their forties and later, and their love sounds so sweet. Perhaps understanding that life doesn’t have a neat ending like it does in the movies makes us approach love in a whole new way?

I’m ready to find somebody to share my life with, but that fear that has plagued my life will most definitely make it look different to that ideal that I’ve held in my head. But maybe that could lead to something better. Has anyone else out there met their love later on? Any thoughts?

Much Love

(And Happy New Year)

Rachel xx