Work Text:
Age 7, 1985 —
February, from Lucy:
On folded printer paper, a drawing in crayons of various colours that although definitely featuring a dog, smiley face and cloud, remains ultimately indecipherable. There is a big scribble in the centre that covers most of the page and other drawings. She has pressed down so hard the paper has torn a little. Inside there are more drawings, more scribbles, and a lumpy yet strangely recognisable stick figure pairing of her and John, whose glasses are twice the size of his head.
The inscription reads, all on one line:
HAPPY BERTHDAY JOHN HAVE FUN AND GET PRESENTS NOW I WILL SEE YOU LATER AT SHOOL FROM LUCY
September, from John:
On the back of a National Trust postcard he found because he can't draw very well and thought the picture was good (it has a horse on it and Lucy likes horses), a neat inscription that he’s structured like a worksheet:
Lucy,
Happy birthday
You are my friend, and I like you because you are:
- Funny
- Nice
- Pretty
Also, you:
- Wear interesting shoes
- Hit people who are mean to me
I hope you get something nice for a present today
Sincerely
John Taylor
Age 13, 1991 —
February, from Lucy:
A store bought card, red, with a novelty crossword on the front, complete with silly clues, although one column and one row have ‘HAPPY’ AND ‘BIRTHDAY’ filled in, with the ‘Y' intersecting.
Inside, the inscription reads:
Happy birthday John!!!!
I don't think this is a real crossword but you'll probably just make something up to put in so it's fine. I'm not coming to the party on Monday because I have to see my family so don't just sit in the corner and not talk to anyone because that's quite boring and sad and I don't like to picture you doing that because if you don't do anything then it will just be James talking to everyone and that's awful because he's terrible and I don't like him at the moment. You're not getting a present because I don't have any pocket money left but do you want to come to the library on Wednesday? Don't tell James I asked you that, I don't want him to come.
Lucy
September, from John:
A magazine clipping glued to a piece of card, clearly from a junior science publication, displaying a table of prime numbers. In blue pen John has circled the number 13.
On the back of the card the inscription reads:
Lucy,
Happy birthday.
You are turning a prime number this year, which is a number only divisible by one and itself. The last time you turned a prime number you were eleven, and you will probably turn a prime number nineteen more times in your life, and nineteen is also a prime number, so that's quite interesting. Maybe you're in the “prime” of your life, but then again it's quite a depressing idea to be in your prime at thirteen, so maybe that's not a very good joke, sorry.
Thirteen is viewed in our Western culture as an unlucky number, but you don't need to be worried about that as the mere presence of any number in a physical situation has no effect on statistical probability and you've always made your own luck anyway.
I hope you have fun being thirteen. Being a prime number means there is nothing else like you in the world. I do think there is nothing else like you in the world.
Have a nice birthday
John
Age 19, 1997 —
February, from Lucy:
A custom card, a printed black and white photo of John at about fifteen, asleep on the sofa and covered in post-it notes.
Inside, the inscription reads:
John, happy birthday!
Remember the post-its incident? I suppose you don't, you were sleeping like a baby the entire time, not even with a twitch or an itch to the face halfway through. I think we got to about fifty before you woke up, and even then I remember you just pulled them all off, stuck them back together and didn't say anything. It is incredible that a person as vastly inoffensive as you shares a birthday with such a complete bastard, but there you are!
I assume you're still pottering around in the house, making puzzles and solving puzzles and whatever else it is you do — do you actually do anything else? I saw your book in Waterstones the other day and made it about halfway with one of the crosswords before an assistant told me I would have to buy it if I wanted to carry on, so I did end up buying it and it's on a shelf now in my flat, so congratulations. I'll let you know if I get around to finishing one of the puzzles but you don't half make them convoluted, do you? I suppose that's what makes you so good.
You'll probably have something to say about all the stupidity with James but I don't want to hear it. He's your brother and you can deal with him. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday because as always, you're the only one who hasn’t taken the piss to no end, mostly because you never say anything. Still, you've somehow ended up the only decent person out of all of us. How are you the only decent person out of all of us, John? It's massively irritating.
I'll be calling in the evening so pick up and talk about something other than word searches for a little bit. And you should come to the wine tasting in Dorset next month. Just drink squash if you have to, there will probably be some there or I can bring some.
See you soon,
Lucy
September, from John:
A store bought card, yellow, with a watercolour picture of two birds sleeping in a tree.
The inscription inside reads:
Lucy,
Happy birthday.
I understand that you're still having a difficult time and most if not all of that is still down to my brother. For what it's worth, he has always been like this and you have always dealt well enough. He has been speaking to me about you which he told me not to tell you, but I’ve decided I will because you'll probably just find out anyway and you have to know none of it was bad.
He is very sorry. He's considering inviting you to Brighton to make amends. That being said, you don’t have to go. You could do something else, if you want.
Several lines follow so entirely scribbled out that they are just bars of absolute black.
An arrow pointing to the blacked out text.
Sorry. It was unimportant.
Anyway, please do let me know if you are in Bristol again. I am in the middle of the next Ludwig volume but it could be nice to get away from it for a little while. Or you could help me. Have you made it further with any of the puzzles in the one you bought? I think you could do them quite easily, if you tried. Have a nice birthday, and don’t worry about James. He’ll do what he wants to when he’s ready.
From
John
Age 23, 2001 —
February, from Lucy:
A store bought gag card, with a photo of various door handles and the text ‘How many knobs on this card?’ on the front. Inside, the reflective foil mirror is revealed with the punchline ‘one!’
The inscription reads:
Happy birthday John!
The mind boggles at the debilitating monotony you must still be experiencing in ye olde Taylor house! I would ask if you're enjoying yourself, but either answer would depress me too much so I won't.
However, the outside world still exists and James and I are throwing a party at the flat on Saturday so you have to come because it's rude otherwise, and also what would you even be doing on a Saturday? It's Saturday the 19th, by the way, in case we weren't clear, so mark the date and take the excuse to sit on a different sofa for a little bit, maybe have some crisps if you really fancy it, I won't tell anyone. I'm not going to remind you again that it's your birthday too.
Have a nice day today. I hope we'll see you there.
Lucy
September, from John:
A store bought card, an oil pastel drawing of two children on top of a hill under the moon.
Inside, the inscription reads:
Lucy,
Happy birthday.
I'm sorry, but I won't be able to make your party. The hotel booking was a nightmare, not to mention the trains, and I've got a deadline set by the new publisher that's five weeks earlier than my previous agreement so I've barely had a moment away from setting. Still, I hope you have a very enjoyable birthday and James takes you somewhere reputable for dinner that you haven't been before — unless you suggest otherwise, he will probably keep choosing The Ivy. I recommend Hobsons as an alternative. You still like seafood, don't you? If they still have monkfish on the menu, I think you would like that.
Will speak soon.
John
Age 29, 2008 —
February, from Lucy:
A bent card with a wine stain on the right corner, reading ‘To my wonderful Fiancé on his Birthday’.
The inscription inside starts at the very top left corner and goes over the printed message inside, to the very edge of the card itself. It reads:
John, I don't know how much you'll obviously think I've had to drink because of my handwriting but believe me it is more. I'm writing this outside by the postbox at the end of the road by our house which you can't picture because you have no imagination and you've never been to our house. Why haven't you ever been to our house? We have a guest bedroom for you.
You didn't come to my engagement party. Why on earth didn't you come? You knew what would happen if you didn't, which was that I would be there for a thousand years in the foyer as he stood next to me and spoke to everyone and they all wished us congrats and said how lovely it is and how excited they all were until I slunk off to the gap between the drinks table and the window and drank merlot until it was an acceptable time for me to say I needed to go to bed. That is what happened, by the way. Everyone James knows is nice, but they're his friends. They're not my friends. You are my friend. Why didn't you come?
James got angry at me for drinking all the merlot at the party, and he kept asking me what was wrong which made me angry because he knows what's wrong too but he's pretending it isn't wrong but it is. So now he doesn't get his birthday card this year. You do.
He said that I was making an idiot out of myself. That's what he said. You wouldn't have said that, would you? I'm not an idiot. Am I an idiot, John?
Will I see you soon? Will you talk to me? Are you there? Just tell me you are, and I can be there too I might feel alright again.
Happy birthday
Lucy
September, from John:
An old yellowing card, likely from the 70s and found in some plastic box under the stairs in the Taylor house, with a black background and only a vase of hyacinths on the front with no text.
The inscription inside reads:
Lucy,
Happy birthday.
It was good to see you at the wedding. Both of you were very well-dressed and I'm sure the pictures you took came out very well. I've received my own copy of the photo of the three of us now and it is on the mantelpiece next to the one of us all at Clevedon Beach, 1982, where we just happen to be standing in the same order, although I suppose that’s not an astounding coincidence — only a one in six chance. And considering the amount of pictures we have of us altogether it would be a virtual impossibility not to have one with us standing in that order. In fact, there are probably at least twelve.
I'm sorry for leaving the reception so early. It was nice to see you but beyond that there was nothing much I would have enjoyed or been good at.
Congratulations again. Happy birthday again.
John
Age 31, 2010 —
February, from Lucy:
A custom card, a black and white photo of John, unmistakably, with his glasses and uncombed hair, in silhouette in front of a window, sitting in a chair and holding the swaddled shadow of a baby.
The inscription inside reads:
Thought you might want a copy of this. Henry seemed to like you even though you were holding him like a sack of potatoes throughout. Visit again soon. He'll miss you otherwise.
Happy birthday John.
Lucy
September, from John:
A store bought card, a black and white photo of a girl sitting alone at a train station. It is a photo of Lucy's — one of the only ones she ever actually sold.
Inside, the inscription reads:
Lucy,
Happy birthday.
I trust Henry and James are well, as are you. They say motherhood is exhausting, but I've never really seen you get exhausted, so hopefully you're doing alright. Henry was very well-behaved and quiet when I saw him, too, which must make it easier. I remember how happy you looked. Hopefully it's still like that now. It is what you deserve.
Have a good birthday
John
Age 37, 2016 —
February, from Lucy:
A store bought card, a professional photo of a dense green wilderness with only a tiny patch of light hitting the forest floor.
Inside, the inscription reads:
Happy birthday John,
Hope all is well. Any chance of seeing you at my exhibition in June? Bournemouth, Westover Gallery. Can send you the details.
Lucy
September, from John:
A handmade card, white stock, a 10x10 grid drawn with ruler and pen on the front, the boxes labeled 1-100. In blue pen, John has circled the prime numbers 1-37.
Inside, the inscription reads:
Lucy,
Happy prime birthday. There is still nothing else like you in the world.
From
John
Age 41, 2020 —
February, from Lucy:
A store bought card, blue, with the words ‘Happy Birthday’ embossed in white. Inside, the inscription reads:
Happy Birthday, John
Love from,
James, Lucy & Henry
September, from John:
A store bought card, yellow, with the words ‘Happy Birthday’ embossed in pink cursive.
The inscription inside reads:
Lucy,
Happy birthday
From
John