It’s my thirty-third birthday today. Mr P woke me up with a cup of tea, a stack of cards and a few gifts after apologetically confessing that two presents hadn’t yet been delivered. I don’t mind though – late birthday presents are highly underrated in my opinion; it’s another thing to look forward to once the festivities are over. I opened my card from him to discover that the little beauty has only managed to score two Ricky Gervais tickets for one of his Hammersmith Apollo gigs in October! I’m usually the one who buys tickets for birthdays so I was blown away. Also, tickets have been selling in seconds so he did really well to nab a pair. Well done, Mr P. I also received a beautiful, triangle shaped pendant with a black stone mounted on it, a spoof Famous Five book and some sexy tights. Just before he headed off to work, the postman arrived with one of the errant parcels which is pleasingly shoe box-shaped although I’m having to wait until he returns home later to find out what lies beneath the packing paper.
The sun is blazing today and it actually feels warm, so much so that I turned the heating down and contemplated leaving my blazer at home. I merrily took myself into town and breakfasted on eggs and mushrooms on toast at Delice before heading to Barnado’s and finding a powder blue Topshop skater dress fr £2 and a vintage Gola bag in The Loft for £7. From there, I had a splurge on some much needed everyday underwear in New Look and with £70 Topshop vouchers burning a hole in my pocket, I ventured into the town’s only Topshop. However, it failed to yield anything worthy, being made up mostly of basics and Ivy Park sportswear. I managed to sate my fashion appetite on the website back at home though and bought a pink, midi-skirt with a frill and a yellow mini skirt, spending the remaining £3 on some baby blue nail varnish.
The whippet is currently basking on the sun-warmed sofa and I’m about to head to the pub to meet The Blonde Sister and her clan for a drink in the beer garden (the year’s first beer garden drink is a cause for celebration, particularly if you’re British). After that, I’ll head home for a bath and Mr P and I will go out for dinner.
So far, so good. Thirty-three doesn’t seem too shabby.