Walter Greenwood celebrates Walter straightened his tie and studied his reflection in the mirror. He traced a gnarled finger along the ridge and furrow of his forehead.
“You’re looking tired Walt.” He said, smoothing down his rapidly thinning hair and popping his Trilby on his head.
“Better get a move on,” he told himself. “Big day for you.”
Locking the door behind him, he set off down the red brick path, through the gate and into the tree lined avenue.

Walter had seen many changes over the years. Families came and went, along with their yapping dogs, noisy cars and equally noisy children. Curtains went up and curtains came down. Spotty faced teenagers went off to University and came back as adults. People, like Walt and Nancy, they grew old.
But some things remained unchanged, like Betty, now waving from her window, as she always did.
“Morning Betty,” he mouthed, raising his hat.
Walter had lived on the street all his life. He had no desire to leave, despite pleas from James, his son, to follow his lead. Somewhere warmer, less rain, he’d said. War time and rationing, Kings and Queens, bell bottoms and Beatlemania, he’d seen it all. Yes, he’d travelled, but this was where he belonged. This was home.

Making his way into town, he cheerily passed the time of day with dogs and their owners, the postman and a handful of joggers before arriving at the florists, where he was greeted with wide eyed smiles by the owner, Gina and her daughter Eva-May.
“Walter, you're early, everything ok?” Gina asked, looking worried.
“Oh yes,” Walter replied. “My Grandson is calling me later so I want to get everything done nice and early. I’m not very good with these modern video call things, I want to make sure I’m ready and waiting.”
“I could help, Mr Greenwood,” offered Eva-May. “I’m great with technology and it’d get me out of this boring old flower shop!”
“No, Evie,” interrupted her mother, throwing her a knowing look. “The shop is too busy today, I need you here.”
“Thank you kindly, but don’t you worry. I have idiot proof instructions from Alex. I’ll be just fine,” Walter reassured, winking at the girl.
“For Nancy,” Gina smiled, passing over a beautiful bouquet of her finest flowers. “On us.”
Walter touched her arm. “Thank you Gina, you really shouldn’t, you’re an angel.”

Walter knelt beside the grave. “Hello Nancy love. Look, from Gina and Eva-May. Peonies, your favourite, with stocks and roses and this green leafy stuff, eucalyptus, I think?”. He told her, removing last week's fading blooms and replacing them with the bright, new bouquet. He lingered, chatting with his wife of seventy years, as if she were sitting right there with him. As he rose to his feet, brushing dirt from his knees, he saw Reverend Wilson coming towards him.
“Good to see you Walter, will you be in church tomorrow?” He asked, gently shaking Walter’s hand.
“Yes Vicar, I wouldn’t miss one of your sermons for all the tea in China,” he replied. “I must get on though, Alex is calling me a bit.”
“Lovely, give him my regards. See you tomorrow,” called the Vicar, waving, as Walter hurried away.

Tired from the walk Walter paused a moment in the town square. The hustle and bustle of jolly shoppers filled his heart with joy. Familiar faces smiled and nodded and children skipped and scooted, while the smell of candy floss and the sound of a young woman singing ‘Somewhere over the rainbow’ transported him back to days gone by.

Arriving at the bakery, Walter was disappointed to find that Angela, the larger than life, loud and proud, pink haired, patissier extraordinaire was not there. He enquired after her health. “Oh, she’s quite well,” was the reply. “She’s having her hair done for a special occasion this afternoon. You know how she is with her hair.” Walter was relieved. Visits to the bakery certainly wouldn’t be the same without her.

Back at home Walter ironed his shirt and plated up his bakery lunch; a soft white bap, packed with fresh cut ham and mustard, half a sausage roll, (he’d have the other half tomorrow) and a large slice of victoria sponge, oozing with raspberry jam and cream. Placing it on the table next to his comfy chair, he rubbed his tummy. “What a marvellous feast,” he thought. Then, settling into the chair, he rubbed his hands together and turned on his laptop.

At two o'clock on the dot, the phone rang. “Blast,” he exclaimed. “Not now!”
Snatching up the receiver he barked at the caller “Hello, who is this?”
“Grandad, it's me. I’m sorry, my wifi’s gone down and I can’t get online.”
“Oh, Alex. What’s happened? I don’t understand?” but before Alex could reply there was a loud banging on the door. “For goodness sake, what now? Sorry Alex, I’ll be back in a moment. There’s someone at the door.” He placed the receiver on the table and went into the hallway, reluctantly pulling open the door.

His jaw dropped and he clapped his hands on his sagging cheeks. “Alex?” He cried as his Grandson leant in to embrace him.
Recovering from the shock Walter opened his tear filled eyes. Behind Alex stood his family, and behind his family, his friends and neighbours, tumbling through the gate and up the winding path to his door. Gina and Eva-May, Reverend Wilson, Betty, Angela, with her perfectly coiffured fuchsia hair and so many more. Swaying and singing with platters and bottles, balloons and banners, they greeted Walter.
“You didn’t think we’d forget your Birthday did you Gramps? You only turn 90 once,” joked Alex. “Can we come in then?”

​As Walter blew out his candles, his thoughts turned to Nancy. She would have loved the party. It was her warmth that ensured their home was always filled with family and friends, love and laughter. “How blessed I am.” he whispered. “How very blessed.”