Audio Quack
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I woke up on my 33rd birthday to a ticking noise. It sounded like there was an antique clock somewhere in my flat. Curious, I got out of bed and began searching for the source: under the cushions, behind the books, beneath my half-dead plant…
“What is that strange ticking noise?”
“Oh, that’s your biological clock, Mary,” said a bitchy female voice.
“Who said that?”
“Your Barbie doll, Stupid.” My body froze, but my eyes moved to the Barbie doll on the bookshelf. “Hi, there.” She waved.
I screamed, ran into the bedroom and closed the door. Why in God’s name is Barbie alive? I was leaning against the wall, trying to catch my breath when I spotted someone staring at me in the mirror, a woman with the most wrinkled grey face I had ever seen. I screamed again. The old woman screamed too. I moved my arm up. She moved her arm up. It’s me! I’m the elderly woman!
“Nobody will swipe right now,” Barbie laughed from the other room.
The ticking got louder. Barbie was cackling. My face kept creasing up until it fell off completely and all there was left was a skull. The skull then dropped off and rolled across my John Lewis rug.
I shot up my pillow, panting and patting my face. I ran to the mirror and found I was back to my thirty-something self. The ticking sound was gone. And after vigorously shaking Barbie, I was satisfied that she was just a toy. I breathed out in relief. It was just another Barbie nightmare. I really need to get rid of that doll.
I then remembered that today was my actual 33rd birthday, and so I put on my bikini and went to the spa with my Gail’s buddy Sian.
We spent the morning in a hot tub with clay smeared on our faces as if we were disguising ourselves as rocks. As our skin soaked in salt, we had our usual girl’s locker room talk.
“Why do you think he said…see you later?”
“Because he has commitment issues due to his Dad leaving him, and doesn’t want to say a firm date in case you let him down, so he’s keeping it very casual and cool, even though you’re the woman of his dreams.”
“That’s what I thought….”
We then had oily back massages, followed by pizza. You’re right Belinda – heaven is a place on earth.
I went to Hermione and Sam’s for dinner. After reading a book about the climate crisis, Hermione converted to a vegertarian and now she’s a slave to the bean. The other week we planned to meet for coffee, but I got ditched at the last minute as Hermione claimed she needed to soak her chickpeas instead. It reminded me of the time a man said he couldn’t see me on the weekend because he had to do his laundry.
The bean dinner was a Romesco Butter Beans dish. Despite it looking like something you see on the pavement outside Weatherspoon’s on Sunday morning, it was delicious: a creamy autumnanal bowl with squishy bread. (A link to the recipe here. Hermione wants you all to know that she used walnuts, but you can use any nut)
After eating, I was ordered to stare out the window, whilst Hermione and Sam kerfuffled behind me.
“Christ, where are the matches?”
“Use this lighter!”
A second later, they began singing Happy Birthday. Hermione was holding a cake with two candles. She had woken up early that morning to make it. I tell you, nothing makes you feel more loved than when your friend makes you a homemade birthday cake.
And that was day one of the celebrations.
Some people don’t like to make a fuss. They would prefer their birthday to go by as subtly as a leaf falling off a tree. I’m not one of these people. Every year since we got let out of Lock Down, I have summoned my friends to celebrate my increasing age.
This year, I ordered them all to a room at The Duchess on Duke Street in London. To save money, I bought a single ‘3’ balloon, and put it by the mirror to make a 33. You’ve got to make the most of being a palindromic number whilst you can.
Due to its name, I made it mandatory for everyone to wear a crown. I didn’t think anyone would actually do it, but each one of my adult friends walked into the room with a crown on their heads. Hermione and Sam had ones made out of grass. Jenny wore a black tiara. Poetry Ed and Kate had flowers. Carrot had a crown made out of metal. Sex Ed Tom wore a gold leaves like a Greek god…Poor Amy ‘forgot’ her crown. Thankfully, I had set up a crown making station so she can create one and wear it for the rest of the night. That’s what friends are for.
There is the fear of the ticking clock, when you’re single and turning 33. But in the last year I have come to realise that you can’t force life, so you just have to roll with it.
The next time I’m a palindromic number, I will be 44. Hopefully, by then, I’ll stop having nightmares about my Barbie. Perhaps I’ll have kids, but more likely, I’ll be a dictator on a tiny island, summoning people to dress for theme days. Or maybe I’ll just be a skull on a John Lewis rug. Until then… roll on 33.
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