Dear My Birthday,

Here you are again. You’re like a drunk abusive partner who I can’t help but love. You disappear for ages and then return in the middle of the night - out of the blue it seems.

And you assure me we’re going to have a great time before you turn up.

And sometimes we do.

But after we’re done I always remember that I used to be much, much better looking. And we used to have much more fun. Then you say “I can’t deal with this,” and take your drink and leave - not to be seen again for months, even a year sometimes.

And I get back to it all - and I get used to being whatever it is that is so different about right now, compared to right then.

All the best,

ME