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Tuesday 5th May to Sunday 10th May, 2009 Forty six years ago to the week my dear mother for the final time pushed in a way she would never push again and, accompanied by a noise resembling a cork being sucked from a bottleneck popped me out into the world.
I’m told I was a bonnie baby. I must have been because with my arse still crimson and smarting from the doctor’s welcoming slap I was unwittingly handed my very first derogatory nickname, May Yao, my mother’s Chinese pigeon English speaking midwife and soon to become my Godmother presenting her with a pair of the tiniest woolly mittens to keep her new born’s little pinkies warm, the word ‘Baby’ neatly embroidered on one and ‘Fatty’ on the other. Hours old and already the name calling had begun, a great start.
This year as has recently been becoming the norm I had no specific plans to celebrate my birthday, let’s face it at forty six there doesn’t seem too many obvious reasons to celebrate but all that changed a week or so prior to D Day when I received an e mail from neighbour Jeff containing an invite
to the first Beach Palooza (party) of the summer. The Palooza, to be held on the beach outside the apartment was being hosted in recognition of the upcoming birthdays of the gaggle of Taureans with whom he was acquainted and I just happened to be one of them.
The evening before and keen to offer our services Phil and I had called round but were assured above the rumbling sound of an industrial sized pot of Marinara sauce bubbling away cauldron like in the kitchen that everything was under control. As we chatted Jeff nonchalantly swung the topic of conversation around to nicknames past and present and in my haste to go through the long list of Phil’s pseudonym's I completely neglected to consider any possible motives. All would become crystal clear the following afternoon.
I’ve always found the myriad of nicknames Phil has possessed over the years as reason for great mirth and I immediately came out all guns blazing reeling them off in quick fire succession along with the relative logic behind them; Bazil Belly, Phil Hill, Rufus Rough Cut, Desperate Dan, Casey Jones …. the list seemed endless. Poor Phil was speechless, reeling on the
A Load of Old Bulls !!!
Jeff 'n' Deborah, wonderful hosts.ropes and hurting and I was half expecting Jeff to step in between us waving his arms with the words “Okay Matt, that’ll do. Enough is enough” when suddenly out of nowhere he counter attacked with a rapid fire one two of his own catching me completely off my guard.
Piggy, common to everyone who knows me was a haymaker that was fully expected and for which my defences were totally prepared but a strong jab in the form of Ear Muff Puff, a throwback to the days when as a hard rock obsessed thirteen year old my hair was first being grown out giving the impression I was wearing a set of top of the range Bose headphones stunned me and was swiftly followed by an upper cut in the shape of Fliddy, a particularily vindictive tag given and used almost solely by my evil big brother which I can well recall deep down causing untold hurt, a spiteful reference to the physical imperfection that was and still is a barrelled torso and spiders leg arms. Thankfully Jeff immediately stepped in to pull us apart exhausted and declared the bout a tie.
The instructions that had accompanied
A Load of Old Bulls !!!
In the paddock prior to the Taurean Palooza Handicap Stakes the e mail were simple. Food, suncream and entertainment would be provided, all guests required to take being just a celebratory attitude, a drink of choice, a plain white T shirt and a white elephant gift, something useless and unwanted that was lying around the house and that was to be wrapped and presented like a birthday present.
At 3pm the sun thankfully finally showed it's face and Jeff’s motives of the previous evening became apparent as guests were split into teams of two and handed marker pens to decorate the T shirts with the team and individual names that they’d been assigned. Phil and I, upholding the inseparable Siamese Twin tradition we've developed in the Shore were naturally teamed together, called ‘The Kingdom’ in reference to our faraway homeland and given individual names of Bazil and Ear Muff Puff, acceptable enough considering Fliddy was well within the realms of possibility.
Once the artwork was complete the suitably adorned guests, outfits completed by identical Palooza sombreros were called to the post for the first event of the day, The Taurean Shell and Spoon Handicap Stakes and after a trial run during which a blatant case of cheating by
A Load of Old Bulls !!!
First arrivals; Olivia, Marisa and Arsenal Mark. Shaunie, a golf fanatic who should perhaps have been moew aware of the importance of fair play than most was identified and sternly dealt with we prepared for games to begin.
It pains me to admit it but my ultra competitive nature, which on occasion has seen me stoop as low as to hurl Torrette’s like vitriol at my poor defenceless mother for unwittingly blocking my next move during a friendly Sunday afternoon game of Scrabble, ensured that this race, despite being competed for in the main by women and children along with a couple of middle aged men in advanced stages of intoxication was a race that I desperately wanted to win, wanted to win to the point of sternly instructing Phil to sober himself up, to pull himself together and to take things seriously before adding as a tactical afterthought that I would run the first leg and hope that he could finish the job.
On Deborah’s instruction to ‘take your marks’ all effects of any consumed alcohol seemed to vanish as I braced myself for the off and on the count of three and a shrill blast of the whistle sprang from the blocks like
a rat up a pipe leaving all and sundry trailing in my wake. Memories of last summer’s Junior Lifeguards when a frantic dash across the sand had left me perilously close to being rushed directly to the ER were at the front of my mind but thankfully this course was just a fraction of the distance. The handover of the shell was completed without incident and despite Phil dropping it agonizingly short of the winning line our lead was sufficient to allow him ample time to reload before crossing the finish. Victory was ours.
After a spot of hoola hooping won, not surprisingly by the versatile and supple Kirby girls it was White Elephant time, the rules of the game simple. Players take it in turns to select from the assortment of gifts in an order pre determined by the drawing of lots. If envy rears it's ugly head and you feel you simply had to have a gift a previous player had opened then you could ‘steal’ that gift from them forcing them to select again. A gift however, can only be stolen twice before becoming frozen which as fate would have it was perfect.
Phil had
A Load of Old Bulls !!!
Deb issues the rules; No biting, no spitting ...... drawn ticket number one and as such got first choice of the assortment of neatly wrapped gifts that decorated the blanket in the sand and when he unwrapped his choice to reveal a fully working, still boxed wrist watch it had the effect of making me think not only that the gifts were going to be of a higher quality than expected but also of inducing a slight feeling of embarrassment at the present I’d donated; a 2008 pocket diary, a surveyors notebook and a freebie ball pen with the name of a leading brand of fire water Tequila emblazoned across its side all scruffily wrapped in a loosely sellotaped bright red napkin !.
Operating under the 'big is beautiful' mantle gift three, the largest of all packages by far, was opened by Angela and was revealed to be a lava lamp, one of those nineteen seventies cone shaped lamps that always perfectly complimented the velvet curtains and orange wallpaper of the era and that would forever send lumps of translucent lime green goo lethargically reaching for the ceiling like some unidentified deep sea lifeform before gravity got the better of it and it slowly plunged back down again.
I remember my nan having one and spending endless hours as a child simply gazing at it, mesmerized by the goo’s apparent unerring determination to reach the top. I had to have it.
Hostess Deborah, at pick number five had ideals along the same lines and upon her turn relieved Angie, who by this time had developed a Margarita inspired smile and couldn’t care less aura, of the lamp meaning it could be stolen only one more time before being frozen. The scrawl on my scrap of paper showed the number eight, two more pickers and it’d be mine.
The tension was unbearable. I attempted to disguise my desire for the lamp like a poker man holding all the aces and watched with baited breath as numbers six and seven thankfully selected from the remaining gifts leaving me with the unbridled pleasure of feigning interest in the unwrapped gifts before slowly walking over to Deborah, picking the box from the sand at her side and, with a heartfelt word of how terribly sorry I was, clutching it warmly to my chest and returning to my space.
Later that night I plugged it in and was overcome with
A Load of Old Bulls !!!
And Ear Muff Puff gets a flyer ! a huge wave of disappointment. Despite the big bold writing on the box clearly stating Lava Lamp it was the most blatant lie I’d ever come across, the switch instead igniting a continual series of rainbow coloured electric shock style pulses continually racing from top to bottom giving the impression of something you’d find in Dr Frankensteins laboratory. Still, I bet it looks wonderful from outside and it'll remain on my cill as a memo of a great day .
Several hours, games, laughter and beverages later not to mention a slice of the richest chocolate cake imaginable and a thoroughly enjoyable day came to a conclusion at around 2.30am with me somehow safely managing to give a ‘seatie’ lift home from the bar on 2nd Street to neighbour and bosses daughter Danielle. The birthday celebrations continued the following day with cards, gifts, afternoon cocktails and a visit to a Brazillian Churascarria Steak House all courtesy of Phil’s ample generosity to cap the end of a thoroughly wonderful birthday weekend.
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Jeff and Deb
non-member comment
Great job!
Matt.... Happy Birthday, you Taurian! Thanks for attending the party and reporting with such description in your blog. You are the man..... you flid! LOL!