Sunday, 2 August 2015

Another Year Older

So when I left work on Friday everyone wanted to know what I was going to do for my birthday.  The problem was I had no idea. 

It wasn’t exactly that I’d forgotten my birthday.  I knew it was looming like a great big clock ready to tick on over to the next digit of my ever increasing age.  I just hadn't really thought about it.  Partly because once you’ve passed 21 somehow a birthday becomes less of a thing to celebrate and more of a thing to cringe about.  But also because, with everything that’s been happening health wise in my family recently, making plans of any kind is just a disaster waiting to happen.  

Which leads me to the sad realisation that I have become a pessimist.


In the end we didn’t actually do anything, or at least not anything particularly unusual.  I spent most of the day writing, concocted a strange new, yet surprisingly tasty, pasta dish from the leftovers in the fridge for lunch and really pushed the boat out for an extravagant dinner at… Subway.  

So whilst to anyone else my birthday might not have been celebrated in a particularly exciting manner, to me it was sheer indulgent bliss.

Plus I was given an absolutely beautiful birthday present:
When pretty sparkly things are involved, I figure you can't really go wrong can you?

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