Yesterday saw me celebrating my birthday. A milestone one at that. I am now officially 75 or in other words three quarters of a century. A 1950 vintage and so far doing OK. People keep telling me I don't look 75 but younger. I'm not sure if they're just being kind or need to go to Specsavers!
I was going to tell you that we caught the train to a Medway town I have never been to and was interested in seeing it, as it has an old castle and a house where Charles Dickens lived. Unfortunately the weather proved far too wet and cold to tramp around outside for a whole day and furthermore I had a flare-up of my on-going stomach problem where I feel as if I have been punched in the chest. Also, because, Kay is stressed and preoccupied with a forthcoming exam in 3 days' time, I decided it was best all round if we aborted the trip and I took to my bed and rested while Kay revised at her house.
In the late afternoon, I rallied a bit and we met up and ventured out to see the switching-on of the Christmas lights in our "village". Unfortunately I was still not up to eating a meal out and certainly no alcohol on my acid-burnt tummy, which was a shame as I was looking forward to having a meal out in my favourite Italian restaurant here. They always do the most amazing skate wing with caper sauce, new potatoes and vegetables.
Admittedly I was feeling ghastly, so forced some semblance of a smile, as Kay took this photo yesterday.
The next big birthday will be my eightieth. Given that I couldn't celebrate my seventieth in grand style with a party because of covid lockdowns, I think I'll start to arrange that now.
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