For contact, we're lucky to be in a decent position financially. Not loaded but mortgage paid, decent income, we can enjoy not to worry about what we put in shopping basket. Usually a week abroad and a couple of breaks a year. What do I get for my 50th birthday off my husband? Bearing in mind we have been together for 20 years. 2 pairs of merino wool socks that are too big and in hideous colours. Same brand and colours as purchased at Christmas that I asked him not to buy again. In fact, I said no more socks unless they're Bridgedale ones. But apparently they'll shrink to fit. And two small boxes of chocolates from a shop I walk past 3 times a week to go to work and buy myself when I want them. And yes, the socks do in fact shrink - to a size that don't actually fit - as per the Christmas ones.
From friends I have a crap, self-published vegan book from some random off Facebook (full of beige coloured meals) and a collection of kitchen crap from Morrisons homeware section.
When asked what I want, I said to donate to my favourite charity. But no, apparently, I don't want that. I want a collection of wasteful rubbish to take to the charity shop. I don't think the thought counts when there has been no effort whatsoever. I make a real effort with these people and would never buy them something they had expressly asked me not to. Or rubbish from the supermarket. I live in a tiny house - what the fuck would I want with tacky ceramic crap that serves no useful purpose whatsoever? I'm a keen cook - if wanted a spoon rest, I'd already have one. Why the fuck would anyone want a spoon rest - just wipe your worktop? Why give me an "original" recipe book which contains a recipe for soffritto and meals so visually unappealing they look like cow-pats? The purchaser had clearly not bothered to look at it. Why feckin ask me what I want and then tell me I don't want it? Why the fuck do I bother? The two things that make me most cross in the world is money being wasted and talking to myself. I can't believe I'm still surprised at 50 to be reminded, yet again, how fuckin thoughtless people are and I may as well talk to the neighbour's cat as clearly people don't listen to me.
Now I'm stuck with repeat protestations of "I forgot" and "I don't know what to get you" and the poor, "sad me" face because the cruel, mean woman has finally erupted. I'm so incredibly angry. More angry with myself for thinking this would be any different to any of the other lousy, thoughtless birthdays.