This morning my mother told me a story about when she was a child in the 1950's - it is awesomely tragic.
Her grandmother died and 6 weeks later sadly, her grandfather also died.
As her family had spent all their money burying grandma, there was nothing with which to bury grandad. They had to borrow from a money lender to afford a coffin and a funeral.
The day of the funeral coincided with my mother's birthday and so they cancelled the party and had to take the sandwiches for the wake. Worst of all, they took my mother's birthday cake, iced over her name and cut it up for the mourners, while she watched.
My poor mama! Worst birthday ever! We just laughed and laughed about this on the phone. I am so buying her a pony this year. She deserves it.