Birthday Week

It's been an odd couple of weeks for me. Starting on Monday 16th March, that was my Dads birthday. He's been gone almost eighteen years now though it sometimes seems like only yesterday, going up and down the motorway on visits. He is still well and truly in my head, so I still wish him a Happy Birthday every year.
Tuesday 17th March, St Patricks day. When I was a child St Patrick was sort of remembered and always mentioned, most likely because of an Irish heritage, although there are no living relatives in Ireland to my knowledge, there is a predominance of Irish surnames in my family. Old habits die hard and Patrick is duly acknowledged.
Wednesday 18th March. Nothing happened, normal day. Even Sarah managed to stay 'good' for want of a better way of saying she didn't kick up a fuss about anything much.
Thursday 19th. The wonderful Sharon who takes Sarah out on a Thursday is this week in Benidorm, so Sarah stayed home. See previous blog for blow by blow account of that day!
Friday 20th March, Woo Hoo!! as youngest daughter (Hannah) would say, it's my birthday. Now, I've got mixed feelings about this. I like the idea of celebrating my existence and against incredible odds I seem to have existed for another year, but on the other hand, youth and vitality are definitely a thing of the past. I have reached that ghastly age for women when you seem to disappear or rather become invisible.
The best examples of this can be found in restaurants and bars. When I was in my 20's I had no problem getting served in pubs and restaurants, in my 30's it was the same, through my 40's I had the kids to contend with along with a bit of further education and marital hic-cups and of course the autism, so I didn't take much notice of what was happening in pubs and restaurants. Now the dreaded 50's or should I say the even more dreaded late 50's. Now I can stand at a bar waving a £20.00 note around and nobody sees me, People come and go with there drinks and crisps etc. and I'm still standing there. In restaurants I'm always the last to be asked what I want. The mad thing is Sarah is always the first to be approached by waiters or waitresses, which kind of wrong foots everybody! Sarah, just to be awkward in my opinion, although autistic likes going to pubs and restaurants. She enjoys the atmosphere and is not in the least bothered by crowds. But she doesn't know what to do when approached by someone with a little pad and pencil throwing questions and demanding answers! this means an awkward moment when I have to intervene as politely as possible because I can see Sarah's discomfort, and the waiters disappointment when instead of dealing with a shapely young blond, he has to deal with me!
Nothing much happened as far as my birthday went, cards from family, the arrival of a piece of vintage kitchen equipment from eBay and a shiny new upgrade mobile phone were the highlights. This is all fine by me, no fuss. More to follow.....