It’s my birthday and I’ll pie if I want to.

Each year I plan less and less in the way of celebrating my brilliance.  Before I turned 30, I wanted to do 30 parties for being 30 (I didn’t bother – but if you knew me back then you will know I was never sober).  Most years I try to go to fabric, or do something in London, go clubbing, organise a party – whatever but I never let it pass quietly.

I’m hardly letting it pass quietly this year with a birthday roast for me and several of my adored friends on Sunday and a tour of Peckham on Saturday daytime with two more of my favourite delights.

But for my actual birthday – today – I thought I would try to keep it low-key.

I was just planning on doing my weather forecast and making myself a nice but easy meal.

I spent nearly 3 days trying to work out what to eat.  I had a dream the other night that I was in bed with a hot girl (nobody in particular), in a house that I used to live in around 13 years ago.  The next thing I know, there is a load of banging at the other end of my room and 8 illegal immigrants break through the in-built cupboard from the (non-existent) loft – one explains to me in broken English that they now live there and need to access it through my room.

I wasn’t impressed so I called my landlord and he turned up in a lorry and I really struggled to get his attention, finally he came into the house and his only solution was to rack up a big fat line of cocaine.

That was the end of my dream but I really enjoyed it.  Suffice to say that I won’t be in bed with any hot girls tonight, nor will I be doing any cocaine, however I am getting a short but sweet visit from my dearest immigrant and I have finally decided what I am going to cook myself.

Fully back off the tangent, I dismissed the ideas of a pie or a big fat roast as I’m trying to lose weight and I will be eating enough.  I considered salmon and lamb dishes but have finally come up with the genius idea of steak with peppercorn sauce.  And curly fries.  Not sure I can afford fillet steak but will at least treat myself to sirloin.  And sprinkle some Herbes Du Provence on the top.

Other than that it shall be suitably low-key – a glass of wine or two with my very most dearest beloved friend (two for me anyway).  And my weather forecast.

I didn’t get the opportunity to keep it low-key at work.  We don’t really celebrate birthdays at work however there was a bit of a fuss made of me, I guess because I am amazing and my dear colleagues…actually my dear friends that I work with, bought me this extra special cake.

I will be eating the part with her mouth.

I also have the original pop-art produced by my friend’s boyfriend.  Pretty damn special.

And my second-favourite Spaniard bought me a Spanish cookbook.  Written by the exceptionally Spanish, Richard Cornish.  Yo hablo Espanol y yo cocino Espanol.  Bring on the Spanish women in Ibiza with my new-found skills to impress them.

I also got some money from my parents, grandma and auntie.  I am still to decide whether to spend it on cocaine or a prostitute.
Only joking mum!
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