2 May 2010 – Turning fifty, maybe not as bad as I thought

Champagne on the beach

Champagne on the beach

Last night I went to bed in my forties and this morning I woke up in my fifties. Half a century. How did I get so old? Whatever happens now I’m closer to the end of my life than the beginning, unless I live to be a hundred and one of course but I somehow doubt that will happen. Does this mean I’m officially over the hill? I feel the same today as I did yesterday, the same as I did at twenty, at least until I look in the mirror and see the wrinkles and the saggy bits.

Apart from the cards Commando had carried in his bag and a little box with a silver Links Of London bracelet, our morning ritual was the same as yesterday, rainfall shower, scented balms, breakfast on the terrace lingering over coffee watching the little birds taking crumbs from empty tables. We went straight down to the beach from the terrace and set up camp. After a smothering in factor fifty, which seemed ironic somehow, I settled down with the Kindle. When the beach waiter came by and asked if we’d like anything I knew exactly what to order. My master plan for turning fifty had always been to be drinking champagne on the beach and that was exactly what I ordered. Turns out he misunderstood and, when he came back with his little sliver tray there were two glasses of bubbly and the bottle of beer Commando had asked for.
“Oh well, waste not want not,” I said and took them both.

By midday with the sun high in they sky it began to get a little too hot so we went back to our room for a cooling shower to get rid of the salt and sand before lunch. The bed had been sprinkled with rose petals and our towels arranged into the shape of two swans. I almost cried it was so lovely. As I emerged from the shower wrapped in the huge fluffy white robe someone knocked on the door. I looked at Commando puzzled and he shrugged and went to answer. It was room service with a tiny birthday cake, a bottle of champagne and a card for me. The room service man lit a candle and even sang happy birthday to me in Turkish. Seems to me turning fifty isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

I almost cried

I almost cried


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