Kevin Bacon’s Birthday


The other Friday I was going to celebrate Kevin Bacon’s birthday.

Not because I’m a particularly big fan. I mean he’s good in the adverts…and I loved Footloose…and of course we’re only separated by six degrees, which makes us practically bezzie mates… But it’s still weird that I’d intended to honour his special day. Nah, the only reason I was going to celebrate Kevin Bacon’s birthday is cause I didn’t want to celebrate my own.

I haven’t properly acknowledged my birthday for a few years now even though I used to love it. Being in July meant that I was always off school, often away on holiday, the weather tended to be good and I was partial to the usual birthday hoo-ha – eating cake, receiving presents, being the centre of attention etc. Not now. Now I struggle with day-to-day general living, far less living it up.

I blame you for that. Yes I’m talking to you Depression.

I’m sure you remember that a while ago – 2013 to be precise – I said that I was fed-up of you making me feel so bad and I asked you, relatively politely, if you could leave me alone. Did you listen? Did you buggery? In fact you’ve been here more than blimming ever.

You actually seem to have intensified your misery-making mission. You’ve changed me so much I barely recognise myself anymore. I’m no longer the fun, social, life-loving girl I once was. It’s sad but I’m not sure I remember the last time I enjoyed myself. I’m not sure I even know how. Social life? What’s that? Apart from completely destroying my confidence so that I worry that hanging out with me is an endurance test that I don’t want to put anyone through, it’s also nigh on impossible to make any arrangements. Just cause I might be feeling okay when the plans are made it does not mean that’ll be the case on D-day. Getting out of bed might be a struggle then, far less getting out and about.

And then cometh the feelings of guilt – in whopping great, big, humongous waves – if I do have to cancel any prior engagements so it just seems easier not to put anything in the diary in the first place.

Oh yes I’ve had so much experience at party pooping these days I’m practically a professional. ‘How to Suck at Living Your Life in 10 Easy Steps’ by Stacey Berry. Coming to all good bookshops soon.

My wonderful friends and family have stuck with me despite your best efforts to turn me into person repellent. In fact the whole Kevin Bacon thing came about cause one friend thinks that the anniversary of my birth should be cause for celebration (we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one), but knows I’m not a birthday fan so suggested we have a drink for someone else. Kevin, fellow originated-on-the-8th-July-person was that someone.

Except he wasn’t. Cause you see this birthday wasn’t just any birthday. It was my 40th. A significant one that I’d always remember what I was doing on that day. Or rather not doing if I let history repeat itself. So I decided not to let you win. You weren’t going to piss on my birthday cake this time. You’ve stolen enough years of my life.

Yeah I know it’s unlikely I can get rid of you for forever (with age comes wisdom and all that.) And okay I didn’t exactly rave it up on my birthday (note to self: refrain from using expressions like ‘rave it up’ if you don’t want to show your age) but I celebrated my own birthday (sorry Kev) in my own special way. By booking a last-minute flight to Spain and buggering off. But most importantly I didn’t take you with me. And although I’d only planned to come for a week initially, I’ve stayed on and eleven days later you still haven’t made your way over here to join me. And that, quite frankly, is the best present I could’ve asked for.

It’s my party and I’ll not cry if I don’t want to.


You can fly if you’d only cut loose, footloose
Kick off your Sunday shoes
Oo-wee, Marie, shake it, shake it for me
Whoa, Milo, come on, come on let’s go
Lose your blues, everybody cut footloose
Kenny Loggins – Footloose