My birthday has come and gone.
I invited friends for drinks at my new studio. Drinks, not a party. Drinks not a party, so that guests wouldn’t expect disco dancing on a school night. Arrive at six, carriages at ten.
M and I kicked off at five with dirty martinis, she didn’t last past seven fifteen, I’m not sure how I did.
Cornflake bartended.
I’d bought a considerable amount of alcohol, working on the assumption that if you invite people for drinks, you should supply plenty to drink, but my guests brought bottles too. As a consequence I have more bottles post party than I had pre party.
There’s another party needed.
Presents this year were of an exceptionally high standard and lots of them. I know it’s rude to judge. Apparently I’m rude. Rude and very appreciative.
Gifts included a Fortnum and Mason hamper with sparkly, I love a wicker hamper and I was delighted with a black one with red lettering, F & M. Due to diary clashes and illnesses this gift was opened after the birthday event, I opened it alone. I loved it so much it didn’t occur to me that it was oddly empty except for hamster bedding. It was accompanied by a bottle of fizz. Perfect for a hamster with a drinking problem I thought. Who could ask for more?
Comments from the gang in response to my sincere thanks for this fabulousness, made me think something might be missing.
The empty basket was the result of the online retail equivalent of forgetting to attach an email apparently, lots of magnificent nibbles arrived later.
The gang were impressed that I am so easily pleased, I really did love it empty…..as did my imaginary hamster.
fat tart 