I turned 37 yesterday and I wondered when is it that people stop celebrating their age and start trying to hide it?
I don’t see a reason to apologise, life is pretty good. I weigh less than I did at 30. I know more about myself than I did at 20. I still wake up every morning wondering what the day might bring.
Me and my extended family all headed to the beach to celebrate yesterday. My nephew cooked sausages on a disposable barbecue, my niece built sandcastles with Theo. The dogs ran around enjoying the space and we all marveled at how grains of sand manage to get into picnics however tight you bind the tin foil.
It’s been 8 years since I was in the UK for my birthday. Since then I’ve celebrated in the Falkand Islands, Canada, Cyprus and Scotland. I’ve marked the day in swimming pools or singing karaoke on remote farms, but it takes a lot to beat the English seaside.
We came home to a sewing machine cake cooked by Jim (didn’t he do well for a non-baker?) and homemade ice-cream in cornets. My sister said birthdays in February are never like this…. and she’s right. There is definitely an upside to being an August baby!