Birthday

I was in Scotland this weekend for my Father-in-Law’s 70th birthday – of which more in the next post. He was terribly glum about it. Partly this is because he is Scottish and is therefore genetically programmed to love gloom as moss loves a rock. Today was also my birthday. Not being Scottish, I quite enjoy them and, here is a secret, despite having a miserablist streak of my own, things have pretty much got nicer from year to year.

Over the last 12 months, in particular, writing a blog has made me a lot of new friends. Not just any old friends either, but articulate, intelligent and funny friends. I don’t imagine you can ever have too many of that sort of person in your life but I certainly intend to try to find out. My birthday message, therefore, is “thank you”. Thank you very much. Thank you for your kindness; your patience; the happiness and the fun your company has brought me.

It is customary, however, to waste some of the internet’s spacetime mourning what ageing has taken away. In an effort not to disappoiny, I tried to think of things I said a lot in childhood that I never get to say now. Long gone, for instance, are jokes about “Englishmen, Irishmen and Scotsmen” with punchlines that, thrillingly, involved “bogies” (or “boogers”) but on reflection made no sense of any kind. I have also had few opportunities in Court to say “He who smelt it dealt it! …. er … My Lord”.

After careful reflection, my top three “forgotten phrases” are, in reverse order:

(1)    “But I DON’T WANT TO!”

I used this a lot as a child with mixed success. I was irrationally convinced that if only I could make it absolutely clear to my parents that they were going against my wishes they would immediately repent. I would sorely love to try this with P, but frankly she is scarier than my Mum and I just don’t dare.

(2)    “Hello Mrs Bloom, can Julian come out to play?”

Any afternoon of ritual punching of one’s friend and throwing conkers at his head had to be preceded by a formal entreaty delivered to their parent at the doorstep. Often as not, the friend was to be seen hovering behind the parent hoping for the nod. The request was delivered in a standard formula which all parents drummed into their children (the ultimate fear in those days being not that your child might be carried away by a murderer but that your neighbours might think them impolite).

I get the impression that this has now died out altogether and that play takes place solely at something called a “play date” and that rather than sitting smoking and drinking booze in the kitchen, parents are busy implementing play plans with high educational content.

(3)   “FIIIIIIINNNNNNNIIIIIIIISSSSSSSHHHHHHHEEEEEED”

“Finished”  was a euphemism for “I have stopped shitting now Mum and would be much obliged if you could hurry along and wipe my arse for me”. I have experienced a slight reluctance in including this entry because I have an uncomfortable feeling that in a few years’ time I will be shouting this out again in a care home in Clacton.

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25 thoughts on “Birthday”

  3. Happy Birthday Moobs, me old duck!

    Actually, Hadleigh’s friends call for her all the time, and yes, I’ve drummed it in to her that when she calls for them, she has to use appropriate manners. Of course, manners here in the Midwest are very different than proper English manners. Don’t even get me started about Southern manners and how they play into all this.

  4. “But I don’t WANT to” is by no means exclusive to the domain of recalcitrant children. It is commonly used as a diplomatic stance in EU negotiations, notably by France.

  6. Happy Happy Happy Birthday, you bringer of joy and wonder!

    I think those phrases should be brought into adult conversation immediately… and endevour to start using them as soon as I find a good bottle of wine…

  8. Happy happies, Moobs!

    I have a tale about “finished!” A friend was babysitting a little boy who, sadly, had a bit of diarrhoea. When my friend heard the dreaded “Finished” coming from the loo, she called out “Is it messy?” There was silence for a moment and then, “NO! It’s me! James!”

  11. I have a terrible story to tell of what can happen when “Finished” is newly outgrown. My friend (who is a home hairdresser) was cutting a lady’s hair one day. My friend’s little girl came proudly into the room, being newly-independent in the toilet arena, and announced that she’d just done a poo.
    Friend and client smiled slightly uncomforably at each other and murmured “that’s nice dear,” whereupon child, disappointed with such a lukewarm response to her heroic achievements, continued, “AND I wiped my own bum. Look!”

  13. Happiest of Natal Returns Dear Moobs! Since OTJ has already wished to toast you, I’ll follow up by wishing you safely toasted at your big birthday bash!
    If only my kid would holler “Finished!” from the pot rather than as he runs through the house blessing the floors with evidence of his achievement…

  14. Happy Birthday to you too – you birthday sharer you!! Thank you for your birthday wishes – I have been away from a coomputer since Thursday – lots to blog tonight… 🙂

  15. You never cease to cause me to laugh out loud, Moobs. I love the line about preceding punches and conker throws with a formal entreaty to the parent. Love it.

    I still hold out hope that whining, “But I don’t want to!” will compel those who try to force things on me to immediately repent. So I don’t think this privilege of self-expression is restricted to use on parents, nor do I believe that the exercise thereof terminates at any particular age. I can’t see why else we were gifted with vocal cords. So, go forth and belt out that grievance with full force … but maybe not to P.

    Happy Birthday!
    AM

  19. Happy birthday, a few days late!! I LOOOOVE how you would yell “FIIINNISSSSSHHHEEDD!” after pooping. I think every kid everywhere did that! My kid sister’s version was a sing-song, “I’m DOOO–NE!!!” I can still see her swinging her fat little legs on the toilet, shouting this. And now she’s 7 months pregnant with her own little dude that’s going to be shouting the same thing in a few years!!! Wow.

  21. Yes. Arranged play dates are getting old fast here at chateau Halushki.

    I’m all for the smoking and boozing kind.

    HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

    Along with yellig “FIIIIINNNNIIIISSSHHHEEED!” did you also announce to your mother that you were going to the toilet in the first place? As in, “Mommy, I’m going to the potty now! ” as you tramped up the stairs? Because…uh…no, I never did that either.

  22. Well, Moobs, I certainly count you among my special internet friends… and happy belated birthday! your last remark is so close to home, i’m afraid i’m speechless.

    -Rachael

  24. Thank you, back. Generally, in a reverse fashion, but also specifically, because I almost died twice, with the first paragraph (“as moss loves a rock”) and the last.

    Nice topic to think about. There are some phrases I now realise I’ve long-abandoned, such as “I want to be an Archaeologist”, and “There’s nothing wrong with my hair, it’s a trick of the light”. Also “I’m sorry I ate all the pies”.

    More seriously, point 1 – “But I don’t WANT to!”. It’s interesting how it’s encouraged to drop it as we get older. We have to come up with a good, preferably labyrinthine, excuse. But I’ve recently come to appreciate Not Wanting To, because it gets away from the idea that you’re trapped by circumstances….and makes you think ‘Why Don’t I want To? Hold on – ah, I Do!”.
    (Completely unrelated in any way, shape or form, I’m reading Danny Wallace’s ‘Yes Man’. Unrelated, I say again).

    A highly belated Happy birthday, Moobs. (I always miss all the fun). Your blogging is like good wine.

  25. actually, are you particularly espoused to clacton? i only ask because i’m starting to lay plans for the future with like-minded friends. torquay can be very nice, i hear.

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