The day after I was born, the sun stood still.
Well, technically it did not stand still, but that is the literal definition of the word "solstice", which happened the day after I was born. It probably makes more sense to say that the day after I was born was the longest day of the year for my parents.
Now that I live in the southern hemisphere, that is turned on its head. The day after my birthday is now the darkest day of the year.
I thought that was true when I wrote that a couple of days ago, but then I discovered that the solstice - which occurs on June 21 in the north - actually happens on June 22 in the south. And yes, the 22nd here is the 21st there for much of the day, but I had just assumed that the sun ignored the international date line and more or less did its own thing.
Which is why I never did well in science, I suppose.
All of which is a very long lead-in to telling you about my birthday last Monday which was just about the longest day ever for me. We knew going in that it was going to be tiring. Catching a 5-hour flight at 11pm on Sunday from Bali always meant that we wouldn't get enough sleep. Having to wait around for 8 hours before catching the leg to Tassie, we could either snooze in the lounge or get home tired.
LK snoozed a bit sitting up. I didn't sleep but I am not sure I was conscious at all times as several times I seemed to suddenly snap to and focus my eyes on whatever it was I was staring at. Anyhow, no real dramas that day (unless you count the joys of flying Crapstar - excuse me, I meant Jetstar).
But I did learn that I am nowhere near as resilient as I used to be. The next morning I slept longer than I have in years. I dragged for that and the next couple of days. Bali Belly (the Bali version of Montezuma's Revenge, for you North Americans) waited until I was home to strike. As they say, my get-up-and-go got up and went.
And that may say more about this year's birthday than the solstice.