“You brought us back to the past” — a birthday story
Lawrence was hurriedly laying out napkins and arranging cutlery. Today was his wife Margaret’s birthday—not a milestone, but still special. Their daughters and families had promised to visit, and the grandchildren had begged for “a proper celebration, like the old days.” Lawrence let his mind drift back to the nineties…
Times were hard back then. Money was tight, groceries were a struggle. But he always tried his best—for his family, for warmth and joy in their home. Especially before holidays.
That year, it started with a simple request. His daughters, Emily and Charlotte, came home from school with glum faces. Good grades, but no cheer. Finally, Emily admitted: “Dad, all the girls at school have angora berets. We’re the only ones in old hats. Please, can we get some?”
Lawrence gave in. They weren’t well-off, but his girls were bright, hardworking, and helpful. He rushed to the market, scraped together his last pounds, and bought the berets. Their joy was worth it—but now there was nothing left for the birthday feast.
Luck intervened. The next day, someone at the grocer’s shouted, “Bacon!” and the crowd surged forward. Lawrence managed to grab two packs of their favourite back bacon. Then, on Saturday, he got hold of some butter—the shopkeeper whispered when they’d “put some out.” With rationing and the girls pitching in, he made it work.
By Sunday, the table was set like in better days. At the centre, a golden, crispy roast chicken rested on a bed of buttery potatoes. His father-in-law raved about the salad with melted cheese, eggs, and a hint of garlic. The apple crumble turned out perfectly—his mother-in-law even asked for the recipe.
And now—the present. The girls were grown, each with families of their own. Their parents were long gone. But here it was again: a Sunday, another birthday. Margaret had taken their dog, Alfie, for a walk while Lawrence set the table. No takeaway curries or ready meals—just a proper, homemade dinner. Old-fashioned, hearty, full of love.
The guests arrived almost at once. Grandchildren tumbled into the hallway, kicking off their trainers, while Emily and Charlotte hugged their dad. “Dad, what’s that amazing smell?” Emily asked. “We don’t want takeaway!” the grandkids yelled from the hall.
Margaret was the last inside. Everyone rushed to greet her. “Right then, let’s eat,” Lawrence said, smiling.
When they stepped into the dining room, everyone fell silent. “Dad,” Charlotte breathed, “it’s just like when we were kids… The roast chicken, your special salad, the potatoes…”
Laughter, toasts, tea with cake. Just like before. Only now, they were older.
After everyone left, Margaret squeezed Lawrence’s hand. “Thank you, love. You took me right back. We were happy then, weren’t we? Even with no money, saving a year for the sofa, the draughty windows. But we were together. And we still are. That’s what matters.”
“Happy birthday, my dear. Here’s to many, many more.”
