13October1997

13 October 1997
My dear folks,

This letter is directed to several loving members of my extended family who have gone to a great deal of time & trouble to remember my birthday after I failed to remember theirs. That’s not quite correct. What I really failed to do was to write to them to congratulate them & wish them well on the occasion. Now I have the guilts!

The truth of the matter is that I take little pleasure in my birthdays (although Jones insists that I have the duty of allowing others the pleasure of sharing them with me). I certainly don’t celebrate them. They strike me as reminders of our mortality, which I think best left well alone. I can’t somehow see the point of conspiring with a process that has one’s own demise as its inevitable conclusion, a little bit like a condemned prisoner enjoying the execution orchestra’s rendering of the death march. Father Time’s chariot rolls fast enough without oiling its wheels.

Yes I know it’s quirky, together with my reluctance to open gifts promptly. I suspect that this derives from a disappointing episode as a child. I can only admire the maturity of other family members who are models of propriety in this regard. And I am all the more guiltily grateful for your letters for deserving them less. They are heartily enjoyed, with or without birthdays intruding.

For better or for worse, I shall arrive down in Portugal the day after my birthday but in good time, as Mother reminds me, to celebrate our wedding anniversary. Eighteen years I’ve been married to the Jones, a strange girl, but then I guess we’re all a little weird, one way and another. And to be sure, there’ll be celebrations aplenty. One of the features of life at the Quinta is that we do a good deal of celebrating even when we’ve nothing particular to celebrate. Or perhaps it’s just that we celebrate the little events as well as the big ones, and what day doesn’t have its little events to celebrate?

Jones is well. She has had no further nightly visitations from the crawly that so rudely disturbed her slumbers earlier in the week. She did manage to dash her toe on the step, fortunately not the same toe that she injured while emerging from the pool a while ago. So she is limping for the moment on both feet. Still, she is well & looking forward, as I am, to our reunion. She swam today but very briefly. The swimming season is fast retreating southwards.

Let me tell you no more, other than that I think of you – and fondly - a great deal more often than I write to you and I write to you often enough – though I’ve been falling behind on my snailmailers. This will probably be my last missive for ten days. You may sigh with a little relief!

Blessings
T