It was my birthday last week. Thirty-fucking-five. How on earth did this happen? I can no longer say I am in my early thirties as I creep closer to the big 4-0. Bum.
Still, it wasn’t all bad. The last few birthdays have coincided with my evening class and gym shifts so I wasn’t really able to enjoy it or do much. This year the celebrations started on Wednesday evening and were drawn out until Monday.
Wednesday started with an innocent coffee catch up (plus a lovely lemon cupcake) which over ran into a glass of red at La Tasca and then segued into meeting the delightful Lady G at the local pub without the vital evening meal window. But that was okay as I snagged a roast potato somewhere around 11.30 pm and then ate some soup in my kitchen just before midnight. I drank a few nice red wines and smoked about a million horrid Spanish cigarettes whilst Lady G merrily smashed up her cider glass. My present from Lady G was mint. She had tracked down a copy of this for me:
which I used to own on a cassette many moons ago. So happy to have it back in my life for all its’ cheesiness!
The actual birthday (Thursday) involved a personal training session (I know!), Nandos (ill-advised fresh pineapple ring in my wrap), haircut number one, cup of tea catch up with fellow birthday girl and omelette and home made twice cooked chips washed down with my favourite pink wine. I also got some presents and cards too! Yay.
Friday involved an afternoon in
Saturday was the day of the big birthday bash. So it was necessary to go and procure Indian snacks, hummus (no gathering is complete without it?), olives, pitta bread, falafels etc and to make 40 vodka and lime jelly shots. I also had haircut number two. I know, two haircuts in two days. This must be the sort of stuff only WAGs and the cast members of TOWIE do all the time. Totes living the dream eh? My new haircut was so, so fabulous that I almost vetoed my choice of birthday party themes which was: Wigs, hats and glasses. I had a trampy and very tangled blonde wig and my friends did not let me down with the assortment of props they came armed with. I’d have to say other than the slurping of 40 vodka jelly shots and the wig swapping this was a fairly tame party by my standards. Even with the amount of Kronenbourg thrown in. No-one was sick. No-one got off with anyone else. No-one fell asleep. No-one threw a hissy fit over a missing bottle of tequila. No-one left a plum on the stairs. Which was a shame as all of the above happened last year…honestly.
On Monday I was treated to an altogether different type of party as my young niece and nephew are in town to visit my parents. My niece donned a tiara and made me some very fine party decorations. We had pizzas and salads and the niece and nephew had decorated me a very splendid and garish pink/lilac birthday cake. Of course they had to help me blow out the candles. Fireworks were supposed to be a feature but the weather proved too inclement. After dinner there was of course Pass the Parcel. But even though the music stopped on me and I won the prize I was forced to give up my gifts to my niece and nephew – what a swizz! The evening was topped off with a recorder recital by my niece. Ahhh such a beautiful sounding instrument.
All in all a very good birthday indeed. I guess I have to take everything 35 has to throw at me.
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