We went to a friend's 50th birthday party last night. It was an absolutely fantastic affair, one of the best parties I've ever been to.
But there are some things that somehow always manage to intrude.
You know how when you've been friends with someone for a while, you get to know several of their friends? And you don't keep in touch with them off your own bat, because you're not really that close, but it's nice to see them when you do happen to meet up?
Well, there were several people in that category at the party last night, and it was great to catch up with them. And because it was the first time I'd seen most of them since I met DH, there was a lot of catching up to do.
Several of them asked if I still had the classic sports car that used to be my pride and joy, and I had to tell them that I had very sadly had to change it for a sensible car (mostly so I could ferry my parents-in-law around - you can't get two octogenarians in the back of what's effectively a two-seater car).
A couple of people nodded wisely and made comments about needing a family car with room to put a baby seat in. I carried on talking about DH's unreasonable dislike for my old car and ignored them, and fortunately they didn't push it.
Then I was in another group. There was a young guy in his twenties there, one of my friend's nephews. Two of the women started teasing him about his parents' desire for grandchildren. There was a bit of light banter, then one of them said, "Of course, if you're not going to have children, you'd better be nice to your nieces and nephews, because they're the ones who'll choose your nursing home."
Cue lots of laughter and merriment and other comments about the possible consequences of never having your own children.
And I smiled and laughed along with everyone else as I quietly died a little bit inside.