The Birthday Cake
When you’re my age, you don’t look forward to birthdays, but when Linda offered to come over from Sheffield for the long week-end in May so we could crack open a bottle of bubbly for my seventy-fourth, I said I’d bake a cake. I think I can just about do that still. So I was looking forward to my birthday for once. Edinburgh is a lovely city, but all my friends are dead or holed up in some sheltered accommodation, and my social life has entirely dried up. Kath lives on Wariston road, near the Botanic Gardens (or near the Cemetery) at the opposite end of the city, and although we promised we’d meet halfway at Usher Hall to listen to a concert, we’ve only managed it twice last year. Must remember to give her a tinkle.
After Percy passed I sold the house and the car, and bought a wee but comfy little ground-floor flat on Balcares Street. The buses are handy, and I rarely venture anywhere further than I can use my feet. I insist on walking a mile everyday. To go shopping at Aldi’s is just that wee bit too far, so I take the 16 or the 5, the bus stop is a stone’s throw from my place. One rarely has to wait longer than eight to ten minutes in the morning.
I used to go to the Book Group at Morningside library, but with my poor hearing I found it quite an ordeal listening to other people’s contribution, even with my hearing aid, so I stopped. Linda suggested I enrolled for Yoga classes, they have one at the Liddell Centre, but although I am tempted, I am still hesitating. In the last five years, one or two widowers have shown an unhealthy interest in me, but I quickly disabused them.
I am grateful that my arthritis has not spread and I am still able to knit. I spend most of my time dozing in front of the telly, doing a crossword or a sudoku, Max purring at my feet. Otherwise my only other entertainment is my twice weekly visit to Aldi’s. To be honest I could easily manage just the one, but it’s something to do.
I was disappointed when Linda phoned just as I was going to bed to tell me that her Bob had just tested positive for Covid, which put paid to her plan to visit silly old mum.
On Tuesday morning there was an old fellow waiting for the bus near the Clock. The Morningside Station bus stop, because, I presume there was a time when there was a railway station there, so, when the 16 arrived, I deferred to him, but quite elegantly he opened his arm and said, After you ma’am. I mouthed, How kind, and he climbed aboard just after me. I only let you in first because the bus is empty, he said with a little laugh, wouldn’t have done if it was crowded. He was obviously a foreigner, a bit Indian and a bit Chinese, which puzzled me a bit, until I thought he might be Burmese. Or from Myanmar as the country is now called.
I was surprised when the bus stopped at the Oxgang Library, which is the stop for Aldi’s, he also got down. I noticed that he had an empty shopping bag. Inevitably our paths crossed a few times in the aisles of the supermarket. It must be true that the average shopping time is twenty-five minutes, for when I emerged after that time, so did the fellow on the bus. Surprisingly the 5 bus which turned up some five minutes later was quite full, and although there were a few empty seats, it seemed natural enough for him to sit next to me. We nodded and smiled to each other. I can’t remember who made the stunning observation that there was a touch of spring in the air, and who immediately agreed, but I discovered that he was a widower living by himself in Bruntsfield. He came from Mauritius. A retired dentist.
I have the reputation of being reserved and tongue-tied, so I was surprised to hear myself. I take it you have no plans for tonight? No, none at all, why? It is my sixty-ninth birthday tonight and I have baked a cake, and there is a bottle of Veuve Cliquot waiting, only my daughter Linda, who was coming over from Sheffield had to cancel, would you care to join me?
