Birthday Weekend

This is the last post going on about my birthday – honest. But after all the anticipation, I thought I should summarise.

The party was a huge success. 80s music and karaoke all night. There were a lot of fabulous outfits. We had Marc Knopfler, Toyah, even a fantastic Indiana Jones (being a character from an 80s film). Plenty of generic ‘yuppies’ in suits and red braces, and girls in neon leggings, fingerless gloves and plastic day-glo beads (which are apparently available in abundance from Claire’s Accessories). We had all manner of 80s hairdos – big back-combing; crimped hair; side ponytails. It was great to see everyone dressed up.

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Rock Chick


And of course, there was me in my rock chick outfit, which actually went down rather well. I’m not sure my stylist would approve. The 80s ‘rock chick’ look is not exactly an icon of understated style – especially the rather bad wig. But it worked, and it’s certainly a different look than is usual for me which was, of course, the intention.

I’ve had a houseful of relatives all weekend who came down for the party, and it’s been a fantastic weekend. There were a few minor hiccups. I got lost at Gatwick airport picking up my dad, trying to find ‘Domestic Arrivals’ and walking past it three times before realising it was just one small door, and he wasn’t waiting there anyway.

We bought party poppers to put on the tables, and then were told that the venue wouldn’t allow us to have them (something to do with them not wanting to clear up, I think).

And there is the mysterious parcel from John Lewis that turned up Saturday afternoon containing two bookends and a ‘birthday girl’ wine glass. Clearly a present from someone, but as there was no note or indication of sender, I have no idea who it was from. If anyone can enlighten me, it would be appreciated.

Now the relatives have all gone home, and I am still tidying up. Tomorrow I go back to work, as a forty-something. But it was a top weekend, and thoroughly worth all the organisation.

Bring on fifty, I say, as an excuse to do it all again.

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