Today Tom Waits and I complete 76 years on this Earth. I’ve written a song for the occasion – it goes to the tune of ‘Seventy-Six Trombones’ –

Seventy-six years old, and I’m feeling fine, Seventy-six years old, and I’m glad – And when I’ve lived eight more, I’ll be all of eighty-four, And the prospect doesn’t seem half bad. etc.

All yours, Tom.

Others, especially those afflicted with a tender conscience, have taken their birthdays rather more seriously. Take the seventeenth-century nonconformist cleric Philip Henry (whose father had the delightful job title Keeper of the Orchard at Whitehall Palace)...

‘He was born at White-hall, in Westminster, on Wednesday, August 24, 1631. being Bartholomew-day. I find usually in his Diary, some pious Remark or other upon the Annual Return of his Birth-day: As in one Year he notes, that the Scripture mentions but two who observed their Birth-day with Feasting and Joy, and they were neither of them Copies to be written after: viz. 𝑃ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑜ℎ, Gen. 40.20. and 𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑑, Mat. 14.6. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 (saith he) 𝐼 𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝐷𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑀𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝐼𝑛𝑖𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑦, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑆𝑖𝑛. And when he had completed the Thirtieth Year of his Age, he noted this, 𝑆𝑜 𝑜𝑙𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟, Alexander 𝑤𝑎𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 (saith he) 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑦𝑒𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑑𝑢𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑, 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. At his Thirty third Year he hath this Humble Reflection; 𝐴 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒, 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑚 𝑖𝑡? And at another, 𝐼 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑀𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝐶𝑎𝑒𝑠𝑎𝑟 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝐴𝑙𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟’𝑠 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝐴𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑎𝑚, ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝐺𝑜𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑜𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝐿𝑖𝑓𝑒. And (to mention no more) when he had lived Forty two Years, he thus writes; 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑌𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐷𝑎𝑦 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝐸𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛. This last Note minds me of a Passage I have heard him tell of a Friend of his, who being grown into Years, was asked how old he was, and answer’d, 𝑂𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐹𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑦: Which (said Mr. Henry) he should not have said; for if he was going to Heaven, it was the 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 side of Fifty.’ — 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲, 𝐴𝑛 𝐴𝑐𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑀𝑟. 𝑃ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑝 𝐻𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑦, 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑜𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑙 𝑁𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝑆ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑒, 𝑊ℎ𝑜 𝐷𝑦’𝑑 𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑒 24, 1696, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑖𝑥𝑡𝑦 𝐹𝑖𝑓𝑡ℎ 𝑌𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝐴𝑔𝑒 (1698).

Well, there’ll be none of that chez Nige...