My 22nd birthday was two weeks ago ....

Birthdays, now this is a day which is similar to the famous Marmite advertisement, you either love them or hate them!  At home birthdays consist of ALL my parents’ friends, who have decided that on this special day, the day I entered into this world, quite pink, with masses of dark hair (not much changed there), that they must come to our home and celebrate. And that is what they do, in fact it’s become so much of a tradition, they now do it without my presence, me being at University. So on 27^th January, I receive a phone call from my mother, usually around 3pm, she has already called the previous day to check that my birthday is tomorrow and that she hasn't missed it, ‘well you know darling, I am terribly busy, those balls wont drink themselves.’ I tend to assume she means coffee. So I receive this phone call, and like all birthday phone calls they start off with the best intentions ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTH’ oh you know the rest Foo, (yes my mother called me Fenella, and then decided to really fuck me over with the nickname Foo.)

So the conversation goes along in that vein, how has your day been so far, do you have a boyfriend, are you sure you’re not a lesbian, it really is fine, I've tried it, not that bad really, what are you going to do with the rest of your life and where do you intend to live. After that begins the motherly disbelief that you can be twenty two years old; well it’s all passed by so quickly, drugs are such a lifesaver, really don’t know why the government worries so much! After this of course we all know what comes next; well darling I must go you fathers been following me around the garden, remember to thank him for the presents, not that he chose them, anyway darling, love you.

 I always wonder why people do that, he is right behind her; literally can hear every word she says. Then it’s on to my stepfather and he has also joined the celebrations and now sounds as if he’s swallowed large quantities of alcohol …