At forty one, a birthday should (according to conventional wisdom) be a day for feeling down and grumpy. You're another year older (and therefore, closer to death, or at least being old and infirm), you inevitably feel disappointed with the presents you get and life seems to be one huge let down, etc, etc.
Well, that's how I am told I should feel. I have never been very good at bending to convention, unless I like the convention. The "forty something and grumpy" convention does not suite my temperament, so I ignore it. Yes, I do get grumpy at times, and yes I do shout at the TV regularly (most car ads are greeted with "it's just a car!" - and indeed most adverts get short-shrift because they are trying to tell me how inadequate I am without their product, and how much more fulfilled I would be with it - neither of which statements long experience has taught me are in the slightest bit true - ever!). But at the end of the day, life is too short and full of woe to be sad and grumpy all the time - you have to live and celebrate living every day, otherwise why live at all?!
So birthdays are for me a great excuse to catch up with friends, have a knees up eat party food, have a drink or two more than usual, and have some pressies (with which I very, very seldom am disappointed - this year a water proof wind up radio/torch and beautiful plain gold cross).
In short, I am still a big kid, and feel no shame in that whatsoever!
Now, back to work (but first a cup of tea and some of my wife's brownies - yum!)