Come Blog With Me Day 8

To cut the rest of the story short I paid for some of the stuff, then he tempted me again, but this time my card was not accepted. Why didn’t I try the cashpoint outside?

The ATM wouldn’t accept my card.

So why didn’t we try some Apple payment device that I didn’t understand. The woman in the shop next door could take my payment for me.

Ok let’s give it a go then.

All in the name of celebrating my birthday. But somehow it felt right. Like it was somehow meant to be.

The device only accepted half the amount of money the guy said I owed. “What do you want back” I feebly enquired, eyeing the carefully wrapped items in the special canvas bag he’d supplied me with for “being such a special customer”.

“No problem, keep it all anyway” he replied rather reluctantly.  “You haven’t got another card have you?”.  “No!” I replied hastily, thanked him and dashed back out into the heat and bustle.

Later I went to treat myself to a meal on Albert Kinney Boulevard. After all it was my birthday.

Before dining, I was tempted by a book in a wonderful new age book store.  My card was refused. Not surprising really after the dodgy sounding dealings at the Egyptian emporium. Someone at the bank had called a halt to my birthday fun.

I had 3 dollars in cash. Just enough for a bag of crisps and a bottle of water.

I returned to my room, with tears of frustration at my stupid gullibility for spending so much, and being all alone with crisps and water as my birthday celebration meal.

In desperation I checked Facebook on my phone. No birthday messages, I’d taken my birthday off my status.

I’d spoken to David earlier, but it was now 4am in blighty.

Nothing for it, but to write the rest of my big day off and go to sleep.

Woke up the next morning feeling great. The pressure was off. It was no longer my birthday!

Why do we feel we have to have a special time on our birthday?  Can we, as friends have suggested, celebrate it on any day we please?

My mum celebrated hers on the wrong day for most of her life.  Dad found her birth certificate the year before she died and she was born on 18th December, not 12th December as we thought. I never found out the reason for this discrepancy, but I don’t think it made a jot of difference to her.

There are no rules! Celebrate when you feel like it.

I’m still not sure what lesson I was being taught that day. I love the stuff I bought, but certainly didn’t need it.

But I increasingly feel that every day is special in it’s own way, even a birthday spent making dodgy purchases and dining on crisps and water.










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