No matter how old I am, I do not tire from going home to see my family and sleeping in my old bed.
As soon as I see the words 'Yeovil Junction', I'm already sat in the armchair at home with a cup of tea, legs curled underneath me, chatting to my folks while the dog tries to get his head underneath my elbow for some much-needed attention.
The purpose for my return, so soon after Christmas, was for my Dad's 70th birthday party. As followers of my blog will know, I spent the weekend before sorting out his card on moonpig.com. While an early week delivery was stated on the website, it actually wasn't until Thursday that I received Dad's card, with much relief!
For a present I gave him a Lonely Planet book on Malta, as his 'real' birthday present will be a long weekend there later in the year as it's always somewhere he's wanted to go.
The whole card and present buying has made me quite reflective this year. Whereas I'd usually go to a card shop and try and find something as apt as possible and chuck in a few scratchcards as a present, the fact it was 70 years made me quite sad. I actually sit here writing this with a lump in my throat and tears ready to gush out at the slightest weakness. Seventy just seems so old, for a Dad; for a Granddad no, but a Dad, that's old isn't it?
Especially when he's still so young at heart and still tears around like a seven year old!
I guess the truth is, it made me realise that my folks won't be around for ever, and I simply cannot imagine it.
So, ignorance is bliss and I'm going to forget about the number. Besides, I prefer words, numbers were never really my thing.
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