So, today is my birthday. Hurrah! I’m not really into celebrating my birthday in a big way (I’m happy to go all out and celebrate my loved ones’ birthdays, and I even spend weeks researching their birthday cakes). I’m sure I used to be; I remember many a childhood birthday party when I would thrive on being the centre of attention (only child syndrome) but, not really any more.
The last few years my preferred method of celebrating has been a nice dinner with The Boy and a girls’ date with my friends. I had my girls’ date over the weekend, it involved drinks and dinner and being thoroughly spoiled by my lovely friends. Dinner with The Boy will be tonight. We were going to go to a really fancy French restaurant where we had the chocolate fondue for dessert last year (I still have dreams about it) but instead we are going out for ribs. I don’t know, there’s something rather appealing about celebrating entering the last year in my twenties with my face covered in BBQ sauce.
Until then, I don’t really have any plans. One way of celebrating I never had any issues with was by taking the day off. So I’ve basically done nothing so far but read blogs and waste time on pinterest. I might get up and shower and go to a yoga class but there’s something about the warmth and cosiness of this blanket that might jeopardise this. It is entirely possible that from now until dinner time I’ll do nothing but nap, read The Wind in the Willows (again) and daydream about the stunning countryside outside Moreton-in-Marsh.
So, happy birthday to me.