Today Tom Waits and I complete 76 years on this Earth. I've written a song for the occasion – it goes to the tune of 'Seventy-Six Trombones' –
Seventy-six years old, and I'm feeling fine,
Seventy-six years old, and I'm glad –
And when I've lived eight more, I'll be all of eighty-four,
And the prospect doesn't seem half bad.
etc.
All yours, Tom.
Others, especially those afflicted with a tender conscience, have taken their birthdays rather more seriously. Take the seventeenth-century nonconformist cleric Philip Henry (whose father had the delightful job title Keeper of the Orchard at Whitehall Palace)...
'He was born at White-hall, in Westminster, on Wednesday, August 24, 1631. being Bartholomew-day. I find usually in his Diary, some pious Remark or other upon the Annual Return of his Birth-day: As in one Year he notes, that the Scripture mentions but two who observed their Birth-day with Feasting and Joy, and they were neither of them Copies to be written after: viz. πβππππβ, Gen. 40.20. and π»ππππ, Mat. 14.6. π΅π’π‘ (saith he) πΌ πππ‘βππ πππ πππ£π ππ‘ ππ π π·ππ¦ ππ πππ’πππππ πππ π»π’ππππππ‘πππ, πππππ’π π π βππππ ππ πΌππππ’ππ‘π¦, πππ πππππππ£ππ ππ πππ. And when he had completed the Thirtieth Year of his Age, he noted this, ππ πππ, πππ ππ πππππ, Alexander π€ππ , π€βππ βπ βππ πππππ’ππππ π‘βπ πππππ‘ πππππ, ππ’π‘ (saith he) πΌ βππ£π πππ‘ π¦ππ‘ π π’πππ’ππ π‘βπ πππ‘π‘ππ πππππ, ππ¦ π πππ. At his Thirty third Year he hath this Humble Reflection; π΄ ππππ π‘πππ πππ£ππ π‘π π ππππ ππ’ππππ π, πβππ‘ π βπππ πΌ ππ π‘π ππππππ ππ‘? And at another, πΌ πππ¦ πππ’ππ ππ πΆπππ ππ πππ π€βππ βπ πππππππ‘ππ π’πππ π΄πππ₯πππππ'π πππππ¦ π΄πβπππ£πππππ‘π , π‘βππ‘ ππ‘βπππ , π¦ππ’ππππ π‘βππ πΌ ππ, βππ£π ππππ ππ’πβ ππππ π‘βππ πΌ βππ£π ππππ πππ πΊππ, π‘βπ πΊππ ππ ππ¦ πΏπππ. And (to mention no more) when he had lived Forty two Years, he thus writes; πΌ π€ππ’ππ ππ ππππ‘β π‘π πππ£π ππ‘ ππ£ππ πππππ, πππ π‘ πππ π‘πππ ππ ππππππ ππ‘ πππ‘π‘ππ πΌ π βππ’ππ ππππ ππ‘ π€πππ π, πππ πππ ππππ , ππ£πππ¦ ππππ πππ π·ππ¦ π ππππ‘ ππ πΈπππ‘β ππ πππ π ππ π»πππ£ππ. This last Note minds me of a Passage I have heard him tell of a Friend of his, who being grown into Years, was asked how old he was, and answer'd, ππ π‘βπ π€ππππ π πππ ππ πΉπππ‘π¦: Which (said Mr. Henry) he should not have said; for if he was going to Heaven, it was the πππβπ‘ side of Fifty.'
— πππππ‘ππ° πππ§π«π², π΄π π΄ππππ’ππ‘ ππ π‘βπ πΏπππ πππ π·πππ‘β ππ ππ. πβππππ π»ππππ¦, πππππ π‘ππ ππ π‘βπ πΊππ πππ ππππ πβππ‘ππβπ’ππβ ππ πβππππ βπππ, πβπ π·π¦'π π½π’ππ 24, 1696, ππ π‘βπ πππ₯π‘π¦ πΉπππ‘β ππππ ππ π»ππ π΄ππ (1698).
Well, there'll be none of that chez Nige...
— πππππ‘ππ° πππ§π«π², π΄π π΄ππππ’ππ‘ ππ π‘βπ πΏπππ πππ π·πππ‘β ππ ππ. πβππππ π»ππππ¦, πππππ π‘ππ ππ π‘βπ πΊππ πππ ππππ πβππ‘ππβπ’ππβ ππ πβππππ βπππ, πβπ π·π¦'π π½π’ππ 24, 1696, ππ π‘βπ πππ₯π‘π¦ πΉπππ‘β ππππ ππ π»ππ π΄ππ (1698).
Well, there'll be none of that chez Nige...
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