My mother died 16 years ago. Had she lived she would have been 84 yesterday. I used to think it was cool to have a birthday on Bonfire Night. Correction – in those days “cool” meant not feeling warm enough. But I did think it had distinction. Musing on such things through the cloud of sinex spray and vick vapour rub that still surrounds me, I am amazed at how young she was when she died. Not much older than I am now. Colds and coughs apart, I have to say that I don’t feel much like the Little Old Lady she became.
All of that must be that my cold is getting better.