The bitter-sweetness of looking like Elton John

The “One Year Ago” function on blipfoto is a bitter-sweet tool; for example, I discovered that this time last year I was in Málaga, trying to divest myself of orange hair, and celebrating my birthday in a small apartment looking into a mirror wondering why Elton John was staring back at me. This year, I have been freezing my nads off in Ottawa (“Nads off in Ottawa” – title of a rom-com if ever I heard one), watching the plum of my loins playing soccer, and wondering if it is bad form to open a bottle of prosecco at noon. (I decided it was.)
 
Ah! The confusion of a middle-aged birthday. I’ve never really been a big fan though: it’s the same as with New Year’s Eve, Halloween, Valentine’s Day… it all feels a bit contrived. The psychological depths of this are really worth plumbing, I think. Anyway, we were up for once at a reasonable time, as Ottawacker Jr.’s game was only at 11am. However, in a nod to my advancing age, I awoke with aches and pains all over. Especially in my right foot. God knows what it was – but I was hobbling around like a jittery, pained drunk, simultaneously groaning when my right foot hit the ground and then wincing when I had to move my left hip to compensate. I sounded like a beatbox; if I hadn’t made an effort to keep the volume down, I’d have had my own soundtrack as I entered the room.
 
Anyway, Mitch came round first thing with croissants and good humour, and slowly the pain began to dissipate. By the time we went down to the RA Centre for Ottawacker Jr.’s game, I was moving rather more freely. The Tylenol helped, of course. It was a good game (against Ottawa City), who were a good team, and the Internationals won 8-4. His team are top of the table with, as they like to say here, a 10 & 1 record. After the game, Ottawacker Jr. was a little more subdued than usual – and he subsequently had his shower and then went to lie down. This, you will understand, never happens. When the time came for his afternoon goalkeeping practice, he still hadn’t stirred, so I cancelled it and then slept in the chair a little myself. He came down, sat and cuddled in the chair with me for an hour, and then went back to bed, reappearing only briefly at 7. He then refused food (including cake)…
 
Mrs. Ottawacker and I had dinner (couscous), chatted for a while, then watched something meaningless before going to bed ourselves around 9.30.