Today is my brother’s 70th birthday.
I woke up one night last week, thinking ‘it will be his birthday any day now! And, oh, he’ll be 70 this year…’
But which date, other than early August? Luckily these things can be Googled in Sweden, even when you’re not famous. I found out his middle names, too.
We are half-siblings, and I first met him at his 50th birthday party. ‘So you do know which date then,’ I hear you say. No, because the party was at a weekend, not on the actual day. ‘I’ll pick you up at the station,’ he said. ‘I’ll wear a red shirt.’
It’s an odd situation. His name is one I’d happily have picked for him as a child, had I been able to. He’s a lovely man, and I’m glad I’ve got an older brother, even if I did have to wait quite a few years. Circumstances mean we don’t meet often. It’s been a few big birthdays, and when we’ve been driving ‘past.’