I suppose about a third of the population will have birthdays during the lockdown, some significant ones with 0s in them. Many of them will have made a better job than me of not getting gloomy. Deirdre has bravely and loyally worked at raising my spirits by stuffing me full of all the food I normally shouldn't be eating: cooked breakfast, spinach loaf, sausage in red wine and onion sauce made and delivered byTim from Crich, and chocolate Guinness cake. The Loaf and Crich Butchers have delivered large packages of carbohydrates. We even sat on a stone seat in the woods below Holloway and had a hot cross bun, but today lockdown got to me. I know people will want to point to the glorious sunshine, the bluebells beginning, the wild garlic ready and waiting for rain, the little white flowers that we botonists call 'little white flowers' and the equally pretty little yellow ones. But today the lockdown got to me. It presents us with so few options for a bit of spontaneous celebration: meeting friends in the street, lunch out, a drink with friends in the garden. I tend now I'm well past 70 to find birthdays depressing, anyway - another year shovelled away. But the effect can be neutralised by that surprise visit, a pint in the pub or an impulse purchase in a book shop or garden centre - that gesture of self-indulgence. It doesn't have to be spectacular, but I would have liked something modest like a fly-past by the Red Arrows or a 21 gun salute. Anyway I did get Whatsapped a video of the Wirksworth family performing a song and dance tribute which was better and lasted longer than the fly-past or the 21 gun salute.
I realise how important it is to retain that bounce that people seem to be finding to cope with these locked down days. But I at least need to acknoweldge that there are also flat days and that those can lead to torpor and apathy, not the cheerful manyana of knowing we don't have to complete tasks today because there are plenty of tomorrows. I am wondering if today I just felt an obligation to be upbeat and a responsibility to achieve it on my birthday. Tonight the sun will sink and tomorrow Easter will rise. Just as everyone is noticing the Spring more so they are relishing the high calendar days with all those Easter decorations, rainbows and Easter Gardens, the Thursday applause at the doors. These, I'm sure, represent us asserting our hope, positivity and community.
Anyway the day dissolved into laughter and chaos as family convened from Suffolk, Sussex, Penarth and Wirksworth to sing me Happy Birthday on Zoom without the niceties of tunefulness or timing. Cake was exhibited and candles blown out and there was much discussion as to why the link wasn't working for some, but fortunately 12 year old Osian was on hand to advise. Whenever we feel powerless there's family to get us through.
I sang this song at my 70th birthday party. Enough years have passed since to cause it to become a little dated, but I would never have found rhymes for all those East European female tennis champions we have nowadays, but won't have this year.
70 SONG
A national treasure’s my ambition to be
Have I left it too late now I’ve past seventy?
Perhaps it’s the time now, perhaps it’s the crunch
But first I will need a nap after my lunch
Then I’ll leave it a bit longer, I’ll procrastinate
And think more about it when I’m seventy-eight.
I’ll write several novels, win a first Booker Prize
I’ll fill up the marquee at Hay-on-Wye
As a critic and pundit revered and awesome
Stand aside Melvyn Bragg, stand aside Mark Lawson
Have I left it too late now I’ve reached seventy
But Melvyn Bragg is far older than me.
With some coaching and practice at tennis I’m hoping
I could still win Wimbledon or the French Open
Djokovic, Federer and Murray move over
I’ll have a knock up with Maria Sharapova
Have I left it too late now I’ve past seventy?
For Virginia Wade’s forehand pass on me
The Oscars are biased it’s a well-known fact
They discriminate against me because I can’t act
I’m auditioning for a part where I’ve aptitude and fitness
I’ll make my name as a corpse in Silent Witness
Have I left it too late now I’ve past seventy
For Emilia Fox to do an autopsy on me
I play at the Nelson, the Jug and the Cliff
But I can’t help wondering what would happen if
A talent scout saw me and was struck by my charms (what might come to pass)
Carnegie Hall or even The Nelson Arms
Have I left it too late now I’ve past seventy?
For Shirley Bassey to duet with me
A career in male modelling I could cultivate
Advertising cold cream and exfoliate
Me in tight leather pants and a sagging string vest would
Be a catwalk triumph for Vivienne Westwood
Have I left it too late now I’ve past seventy?
For an incontinence pad by Versace
I’ve time to be a sex god, a rock and roll icon
I could be where it’s happening now, not just a bygone
A world cup skier with breath-taking skill
And I’ve still got some time to go further downhill
Have I left it too late now I’ve past seventy?
For Her Majesty to grant a knighthood to me?
So if you see me in the park on a bench fast asleep
Doff your hat, be respectful, a solemn vigil keep
I’ll be a national treasure; the poet laureate
I’m simply practising lying in state
Have I left it too late now I’ve past seventy?
For a huge state funeral in Westminster Abbey