I’ve talked before about how my family like to celebrate their birthdays.
We don’t do it by halves and everyone, from aunties and uncles to cousins and extended family, go out for drinkies.
My birthday last week was no exception.
We kicked off the celebrations on Friday with a shopping trip for me and my mum.
This a rarity having grown up with two older sisters, so the quality time was really nice.
Matt and I went out on the Friday evening to Agora, a Greek and Turkish restaurant in Southsea, and again it was lovely.
What isn’t nice about cocktails and mezze food (even though I had too much of both)?
Saturday, my actual birthday, was spent shopping, then out in the evening at Port Solent.
Despite me now being the ripe old age of 32, my mum still gets me a birthday cake and every year I pretend I can’t see her attempt to light the candles.
But as I’m getting older and the number of candles increases, it’s becoming more problematic for her – and this time, as everyone launched into the third chorus of Happy Birthday, the smoke alarms went off.
Everyone else looked somewhat concerned until word got round the venue that it wasn’t in fact an emergency.
The real reason was because I’m now so old that the number of candles are quite literally a fire hazard. I honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry!
I was begging the sprinklers not to come on, otherwise I would have been in serious trouble.
I probably would have been mortified had it not been so funny – that and the fact the taxi driver who took us there thought I was celebrating my 19th birthday.
Again I would have been overjoyed by this had he not also told me he’d resist the urge to cuddle me and grab my ‘baby face’.
I’m a friendly gal and took this as a kind-hearted gesture. But a girl has limits and at 32 years old I’m now well past the cheek-pinching stage!