Celebrating 80 Years in Style: With Family, Surprises, and Dolphins

Coming together to honour a birthday has never felt more special

A few days ago we were celebrating my dad’s 80th birthday.

Over the last few years, things have been a bit of a struggle.

His beloved wife passed away when he was 74, and he didn’t feel like celebrating at all when he turned 75.

(Not to mention that it coincided with the day that we heard that Trump had won the US election, which really f#*>ed up the mood of the day.)

Add to that the fact that my sister was living on the other side of the world at the time, in the Philippines, and, since we are the only two siblings, it made having a family celebration a bit tricky. I think I took him out for a meal and we celebrated quietly.

79 was a minger of a birthday. Our dear Prime Minister, Bojo, had announced a month-long lockdown for November. So Dad was stuck at home; I was stuck at my home, 20 miles up the road from him, and my sister, having got the heck out of the Philippines during 2020 while she could, was now in France and not crossing any borders due to rigid restrictions.

My father was home with a bottle of whisky and pining thoughts of his beloved wife, now five years in the after-life. He spent the whole evening sending us YouTube links to songs that were drowning in nostalgia, his drunken sadness becoming more apparent with each message.

So, when we were approaching his 80th birthday, with restrictions mostly lifted and much easier for travel between the UK and France, my sister suggested that she came over as a surprise for him. Of course, I thought this was a wonderful idea and the plan was set in motion.

Times being what they are, it was not without uncertainties and possible spanners in the works that we began to make plans.

A couple of days following our original discussion, my sixteen-year-old daughter was contacted by Test and Trace, aka The Covid Hunters. One of her best friends, and that friend’s father, had tested positive and now she was a suspected carrier. I told my sister to hold off booking until we had the results of her PCR test back.

Fortunately, we were in the clear. Meanwhile, my sister was trundling down to Barcelona to deliver her two youngest offspring for a week of holidaying with her eldest, who is currently living and studying there. Not knowing if her own movements were going to get in the way of possible travel plans, we waited until she was back in France, with her kids safely deposited, and our plans could now move forward.

She booked a flight and checked the trains down to Devon, where we live. It was all perfectly timed, with me being able to pick her up after school had ended and, with everyone in the car, we could drive on to my dad’s.

This was 4 days before his actual birthday, so I had to find a good reason to make sure that he would be home. I made up some lie about needing to collect my daughter from school, since her school is only a short drive from his house, and stopping in to see him. Thankfully, he didn’t ask any questions as to why she couldn’t just catch the bus, as she normally did.

So, we showed up with my sister trailing behind. We went into his apartment and I shut the door behind me, moving quickly into the living room so that, when my sister rang the doorbell, he would be closest to the door to answer it.

Just as we had planned, when the doorbell rang soon after we had entered, he looked surprised. In fact, it turns out that he assumed that whoever it was at the door must have been after me for parking badly or something, so he was fully expecting a complainer.

Instead, he had the surprise of his life. And a beautiful and memorable week to follow…

I am not going to lie: having the freedom to go out and enjoy the world, eat in pubs on a whim, and have family to visit, felt incredible after 18 months of isolation and restriction. Needless to say, we made the most of it.

This was also my sister’s first trip to the UK in many years that didn’t involve jet lag, rushing around due to a tight schedule, or having to work. For the first time since the nineties, she had the chance to take in the beautiful Devon surroundings, wander through vibrant towns, browse shops, and stop in cafés whenever she fancied.

Equally, my dad hadn’t had the opportunity to trawl the towns and local beauty spots for some time, and so, a week of proper touristy trips around the place was in order.

I was a little more restricted with the kids being in school, but we still managed to spend most of our time together each day.

A rare treat saved itself for last

The day of my dad’s birthday was made special, with a wonderful dinner in his favourite fish restaurant. He was truly overjoyed to be surrounded by people who loved him.

The following day was my sister’s last day, and I had cleared my diary to be free to spend the whole day with them. My dad’s suggestion was to visit the area of coast between Dartmouth and Kingsbridge — a part of the coast that I haven’t spent a great deal of time exploring, but is renowned for its breath-taking beauty and wildlife.

I offered to drive, and so we met in the morning and set off.

After taking a detour down crazily steep and narrow lanes, we drove through one of the most beautiful villages I know— Slapton — and then hit the coast. What felt like an eternally winding and long drive later, we arrived at the car park for Start Point — a “corner” of the Devon coastline that juts out into the sea.

“Each time we thought that they had swum away and stopped jumping in our view, they jumping would begin again a little further along the coast.”

A nicely-paved path had been built for the 1 kilometre walk along to the lighthouse, making the path manageable for my father who, despite being reasonably fit for 80, keeps finding his hips and knees giving out. We began the walk down there, keeping an eye out for the seals that famously live on the neighbouring beach.

As I was gazing down at the water, I noticed a couple of circles of white foam, where something had clearly created a splash. I was about to say

“Could that be from dolphins?”

when I stopped myself, not wanting to be too hopeful.

A moment later, a dolphin jumped, and then another, and another.

It was a sight to behold.

Each time we thought that they had swum away and stopped jumping in our view, they jumping would begin again a little further along the coast.

This went on for a good hour while we walked the path to the lighthouse and back again. Of course, if you are wondering why it took us a whole hour to walk a kilometre each way, besides the fact that we had with us an 80-year-old with bad knees and hips, we also lingered for long periods just watching for the dolphins.

I could have spent all day happily dolphin-watching 🐬🐬🐬

It turns out that it’s really rare to see dolphins at Start Point. I had assumed it was common but, since telling a couple of friends about it, I have learned that the opposite is true.

One friend even lives just a short drive away and has never seen dolphins there!

I am someone who likes to believe that things happen for a reason. Whether it’s the universe that is responsible, source energy, or divine timing, some things are meant to be, and this was the perfect finale to a very special week.

My dad is an amazing man who never stops giving to his family. 80 years of non-stop giving and loving is pretty impressive, and I am more grateful than you could imagine that we — and the dolphins — were able to give him such a week of celebration after all that has happened.

Thanks for reading! For some fabulous life lessons shared by Trisha Dunbar, check out this article:

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