At the start of Four Weddings and a Funeral, Hugh Grant’s character can’t remember at which of his friends’ weddings he has just turned up late. “Who is it today?” he asks caddishly, as he rushes into his pew. Personally, I’m not sure I ever went to so many weddings that I lost track of the couples involved. But I’m wondering if that might happen with 40th birthdays.
All of my friends seem to be turning 40, including those who are turning 41 but never got a chance to celebrate because of the pandemic. Over dinners, at drinks, we are working through the backlog. Never let a round number go to waste.
One nice thing about a 40th birthday party, unlike an 18th or a 30th, is that it doesn’t end with an awkward silence over the bill and a trip to a sticky-floor dive bar. Nobody throws up. Nobody steals your coat. But the format is a bit uncertain: are there speeches? Is this the moment for tributes? And that reflects a nagging question: is 40 actually any kind of landmark?