It was my birthday the other day. I’m now the same age as my mother was when my Dad died, which is absolutely mind boggling.
She spent the last 25 years of her life a widow. Dad died way too young: with modern heart disease treatments he could have lived much longer – statins, aspirin, stricter blood pressure control, and he was likely borderline diabetic. But to be honest, like many men, he hardly ever went to his GP. I bet there are men like him dying every day even now.
I haven’t told my husband the significance of this particular birthday. I don’t want to distress him unduly, plus he’s on a bit of a high at the moment – he’s just managed to secure tickets to the beer festival in Dunedin in October. It seems these are the new MIQ spots, in that they’re rare as hens teeth – they only went on sale an hour ago and they were sold out within minutes.
