The weekend was spent sitting with open arms, and having people pile presents into them. It was my birthday on Thursday, and this was cause for a 4-day weekend: long lunch on Thursday, a work party in the evening, sitting in a basement bar on Friday night for five hours, and a champagne picnic on Saturday. Lovely gifts included:
candy floss machine
50s wall clock for my kitchen
clock with a bendy stand
Superman mug
book of retro food graphics
bedsheet (by request)
flip flops
soaps
picture frame
a great notebook made from an old novel
pencils that double as bubble blowers
Phew! Gifts I bought for myself included a couch (I don’t have one yet. Cannot live any longer without a couch. Will surely die etc. etc. You get the idea: it’s really important to me), cute pink slip-on trainers (£12.99! Probably bought in China for about 50p a pair, but still! £12.99!), and a nice bottle of rose.
But now it is post-birthday, and I am no longer special. Plus I feel old… but I felt really young when I watched this! These people are the class of 1992, which was when I left high school (in the UK we don’t ‘graduate’ high school, we just leave), so they too are 28, but either I look freakishly young, or they are prematurely middle-aged. Yay! Sensible shoes? Check! Unisex linebacker haircuts? Check! Identikit Gap wardrobe? Check, check, check!