It was my birthday last Sunday and the Curate very kindly wished me a happy birthday during the notices at church. He mentioned that I was twenty-one again. However, my children were keen to put him right. Straight away and very loudly.
‘Not TWENTY-one. She’s FOURTY-one’ they chanted from the pew. Good to know that they know their numbers…
It reminded me of the time that a friendly local shopkeeper asked a very chatty Joker his age a while ago.
‘I’m three, the Queen is four and Mummy’s thirty-eight’ he informed the grocer.
I think I might just get a large badge announcing my age so the kids don’t feel the need to tell everyone.