Auntie Margaret smashed her china set. Utterly destroyed.
The wedding china for twelve, mind you.
Farewell, gilded edges and the precious Made in Germany stamped underneathUncle Colin tumbled off the loft with the box in his arms.
Oh dear, Aunt Margaret said, her curiosity momentarily piqued.
But it was bone china!
As if bone china is immune to gravity. Then, the tragedy dawned on her. She collapsed into her armchair like a tragic heroine.
Colin, my heart pills! She rang everyone she could think of, she even phoned me, cross-country charges and all, mourning not just crockery, but her entire youth, blown to smithereens:
We got that set from his parents twenty years ago. Never used it, waited for something specialpresumably our china anniversary, God help us.
And now? Dads passed away, Colins done his ankle in, and my blood pressures through the roof.
And please noteno one, not a soul, ever ate so much as a cracker off those plates.
Absolute fools.
I couldnt help but wonder.
Why do we squirrel away china sets, jewellery, and excitement for the special occasion?
Why do we hoard our scented candles for the perfect night, stash diamond earrings away in a box, slap a childs wrist when he dares to sneak a sausage roll before dinner, and pocket our kind words for Valentines Day?
Whats so wrong with today that it doesnt deserve nice things?
Are we really so sure theres still plenty of time?
Almost all the last calls from the burning towers in New York were confessions of love.
People phoned, left voicemails on answering machines
I. Love. You. It turned out, that was the most important thing to say before the final credits rolled.
Reality, says the encyclopaedia, is what exists in the momentthat tiny crack between past and future.
Lets not stash happiness on the top shelf for a rainy day, or tuck joy away for someday, when we could be grinning about it right now.
Theres no tomorrow, really. Just todayand todays just as special as New Years Eve or the damn 8th of March.
So off we go! Make up with your mate, see the seaside, play football with your son, give your daughter an extra squeeze, buy another bottle of Chanel No. 5 for Mumlet her squirt it about any old Tuesday, not just high holidays.
Nows the time. Read the book. Eat the sea urchin soup or roasted grasshopper, if thats your thing. Watch your favourite film and never mind the pile of washing up.
Buy Auntie Margaret a new china set and throw the feast of the century.
Get on with telling someone you love thembefore the final credits start rolling.
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