Ageing out of Sync.

I’ve made occasional mention on this blog of an ex-girlfriend called Mary Davies. She was the one I used to lift over my head to show off. She was the one who saw me on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, another lad on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, and the biker lads from the local pub on Sundays (as I found out later.) She was the one who fell asleep on the way home in my car after I’d bought her two vodka-and-limes and was never seen again. (Or was it vodka-and-orange? Or tonic? Don’t remember.)

What I did remember this afternoon was that her birthday was six days after mine (we split up just before our eighteenth) which means it was last Thursday. And then I realised how old she is now, and got quite a shock. How on earth did she get that far ahead of me?