Nan's Birthday

Ned thinks, ‘Oh shit, it’s Nan’s birthday tomorrow and I’ve forgotten to send her a card. AGAIN.’ He feels terrible about it. But then he thinks, ‘What does she expect from someone who’s got as many problems as I have?’

He reckons he’s sunk about as low as he can go and decides that today - half way through his twenty-third year - is the day he’s going to start turning his life around. With that end in mind he goes out to W.H. Smiths and buys a brand new bright red exercise book in which to make a list of all his problems. That’ll be a start. That’ll be a first step. But he has to be totally honest with himself. He sits down on his bed and starts to write a list of his problems:

1) I’m addicted to beer
2) I’m addicted to fags
3) I’m addicted to Birds Eye instant curries
4) I don’t know what to do with my life
5) I don’t know how to make the best use of my creative gift
6) I don’t know if I have a creative gift
7) I’ve got a really embarrassing rash
8) I drink too much beer
9) I don’t know where my life’s going
10) I’m depressed all the time
11) My toaster’s packed up

He pauses, wondering whether that’s all his problems or whether he can think of any more. Then he thinks: ‘Hang on a minute. I’ve just been out to W.H. Smith’s to buy a brand new exercise book to write a list of all my problems in. I could’ve picked up a card for Nan while I was there and just written in it: Happy Birthday, Nan – lots of love from Ned, with a couple of kisses.’

But no, he couldn’t have done that. He hasn’t seen the old bag for over a year and he’d have to scribble some news about his life. He’d have to make out that his life was going great – Nan always liked to hear that. He’d have to lie and say he’d applied for that psychology course. God, the guilt! The pain!

And then he’d have to get a stamp from somewhere. And then he’d have to find where he’d scribbled Nan’s address, which he wouldn’t be able to do, so he’d have to phone his Mum and ask her. And she would utter those dreaded words: ‘So, what have YOU been up to, then?’

He’s earned a fag just thinking about it! That first drag’s always the best! He stretches out on his bed, exhales a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling and feels better. He’s got to stop being so hard on himself! He’s got to cut himself a bit of slack. He’s going through a terrible time. Nan would understand. Maybe, in a few weeks’ time, when he’s got himself sorted out, he’ll feel ready to go out and choose her a really nice card – not a birthday card, just one of those cards for no particular occasion, one that people send each other for no particular reason, just to say they love them and that they’re thinking about them – because he really does love his Nan – one that she’ll really like, with flowers, or a windmill, or fishing boats, or kittens – and he’ll put inside it a really newsy letter and Nan will open it and think ‘Gosh, a card AND a letter! What a lovely surprise!’

Maybe. In a few weeks’ time. When he’s got himself sorted out.

In the little front room of her sheltered accommodation, Ned’s grandmother is opening her birthday cards. There are so many! She’s got one from all seven of her grandchildren.

Except Ned.