element of suprise

Tomorrow my husband is fifty. He doesn’t look it: damn him, neither does he act it but I think he might be starting to feel it.

Anyway, for his fortieth he had a baby and also a telescope. There is no trumping that really.

I didn’t organise a surprise party because he would hate that and he would spoil it by finding out or refusing to go to it.

A few months ago I started to ask him how he wanted to celebrate. He didn’t know. He ummed and ahhed and then two weeks ago decided on a family meal (extended family and best friend) in the local Italian restaurant where we always celebrate his birthday.

I’ve known what I was going to buy him since last summer when he fell in love with a limited print in a gallery in Bed Gellert, north Wales. However the gallery opens seasonally and I started to panic. Once I did get hold of them they no longer had the print and so I had to order it direct from the irish based artist. I started to get cold feet. Perhaps time would have cooled his love of the art work. I showed it to my hairdresser who didn’t like it much. This made the doubts stronger. I also had to try to order it on my phone so that he wouldn’t see it on the browser history. My phone always seemed to lose connection with the internet before I got to paying for the print. All of this boded ill.

On a trip to IKEA, he reminisced about a chair he had owned and discarded. “ That’s what you could buy me for my birthday, a chair.” He announced.

This seemed so right.

“I’ve already decided what I’m going to buy you” I stammered.

“Oh go with that then” he said.

Now it preyed on me, he WANTED a chair, he never asks for presents usually. He might hate the print.

I couldn’t rest.

A few days later, before falling asleep,“ I’ll get you the chair, “I said, ”but you will have to choose it so its perfect.”

“I might like what you are going to buy me” he protested.

“I’m not sure it’s the right present”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise, unless you want the chair.”

After about half an hour, he was sure he wanted the chair and wanted to know what my present was. Reluctantly I told him.

He groaned, “ That would have been perfect!” and hid under the bed clothes, like a big kid upset he’d spoilt a surprise.

I asked his mum to give me a picture of him as a child in his astronaut suit. Somehow it fell out of my handbag and although it was still in the picture wallet I’m sure he looked at it. Still I went to get his cake with two of our three girls today. The youngest came in and said to the middle child

“Don’t tell daddy about the cake.”

“WHAT CAKE?!!!”

Daddy pretended to be deaf.

I have just bought him a helium balloon, it’s in the car boot. I know he is going to go out and open the boot before midnight, I just know it. He doesn’t do surprises.