So turning thirty wasn’t as kak as I thought it would be…
When I woke up on the day, M, my beautiful boy, had already left at 6am to go play golf… (he came back later so we could do brunch…), but still, in order to compensate for his absence, he left me an awesome surprise brekkie. Check it out:
He also got me a big bunch of flowers and the cutest li’l card…
The card included a ‘voucher’ that entitles me to ‘a foot massage (with love)’… and a ‘picnic on the beach’…
You have no idea how sweet this is, coming from a boy who used to think non-stick T-Fal pans made the perfect V-day gift. 😉 Also, he’d rather die than go eat canapes on Clifton 4th at sundown… the only reason he’s offering it up is because he knows its the kind of soppy shizz I’d enjoy. Soet ne?
I was also spoiled rotten by my beautiful friends who sent me love from all around the globe. (Thanks guys, I thought my cell and FB page was gonna crash from all your lovely messages… most of which contained words like ‘slapper’, bitch face’ and ‘enjoy those saggy boobs’…. ;-P You all helped make me feel truly special).
As for the rest of my day, I spent it at the most gorgeous wedding of two of my nearest and dearest, Kim and Emile. (A nice piccie of them will get posted up shortly. In all my shots, one of them has their eyes closed or is looking away… they had serious ‘paparazzi’ to deal with…)
Was lovely to spend the day with a bunch of my favourite peeps
and get blind drunk on other people’s money. 😉 Will have a birthday party next week and am quite excited because this year I’ve decided that in order to take the miffness out of the end of my 20’s, I’m going to be utterly selfish and accept pressies! Reeee! (For the past few years, I’ve nominated a charity of my choice and asked that my besties make deposits on my behalf… This turns out well ‘cos I get to score karma points for being a wild, evil youth and take a bit of pressure of my friends who consider me the Worlds Most Difficult Person To Buy A Gift For…)
Anyhoo, needless to say, I’m v. glad I didn’t end it all in Warren Adler’s bathroom and looking v. v. forward to another decade (or three) of utter fabulousness.