Today I am 21 again.
And again. And again.
Ok, I’m sixty-three today.
Since this is a lockdown birthday, it will closely resemble each of the preceding two-hundred and seventy-four days. We will go for a walk this morning, I’ll sit and pretend to write something for a couple of hours, then I’ll read and watch TV.
This is what happens when your local pub is still closed.
But it will be different. I’ll talk to Tinson1 in Waterford and Tinson2 in Fremantle. Friends will send texts, or will WhatsApp. Mrs Tin, Tingirl and I will have cake.
It’s my birthday, and I’m going to enjoy it.
Happy birthday to me.