April is my favourite month of the year. The curtain to the beginning of summer is unfurling. Birds sing, flowers blossom and the top coat can be left back in the wardrobe. Well most years anyway. Oh and April is the month in which I celebrate my birthday.
Although I am at the stage now where I try to ignore my birthday in the same way you’ll look the other way when you see somebody annoying approaching on the street. I hate getting old. I really do. I go for a run and when my knees hurt or my back aches I wonder what on earth could be wrong? “It’s called getting old”, is how one friend bluntly put it. And you know what, when you hear about hospital trolleys and waiting lists, it makes the prospect all the more daunting.