Mothers Birthday

 

Subject: Mothers Birthday.

Now all is revealed. 

How I came to have my birthday celebrated 5 days early.
I have been educated, by Andrew into the workings of "Face Book" and see that in my profile, I'm entered as being born on the 11th.  

Yet another data error to add to the billions of errors promoted by data accounting firms each day. Try investigating the information they hold on you in the files of Experian, you will be amazed to find the rubbish which attaches to your profile, a profile on which others may take an opinion about your financial situation.
Anyway to get back to my theme. It's interesting to think of my mother, five days before I was actually born.
She, a tiny, slight built 4' 10'', and me, a bursting 10 pounder, I must have been an enormous physical discomfort to her,  mixed in with her thrill of becoming a mother. 

Five days to go before birth and what a contrary blighter I was. Not withstanding my size I seemed determined to stay put in this warm womb of a home. A nine months tenancy and I was doing everything a 'breech' baby could do to stop the eviction. 

On reflection "feet first" should be written on my epitaph. Leading with the feet and not with the head, seems to be something I  specialise in.
Reading, even in these high tech days, of the trauma of giving birth to a breech baby, it makes it all the more remarkable to think back in 1940, without the scans and the information readily available which pregnant mums expect, how terrified my mom must have been.
Perhaps we shouldn't celebrate "our" birthday at all, it should be, our "Mothers" birthday.