My Birthday: Smiling, Laughing and, Eventually, Wailing

Fear not! I haven't abandoned you! I know I've been a terrible blogger for the past two months and I'm really sorry. I've recently had something really exciting going on which has been taking up all of my time. I can't wait to tell you all about it...but I can't for another few weeks. I know, I know, suspense is a killer.

What a can tell you about is my birthday party. I turned twenty three a fortnight ago (and yet the night before my birthday I got asked for my ID to prove I was sixteen so I could buy a lottery ticket) and, to celebrate the anniversary of my glorious birth, we had a BBQ. All themes were banned after the Wonderland Extravaganza I organised last year. Apparently my mother wasn't entirely on board with the amount of glue-gunning and googly eyes required to make our garden look like a Lewis Caroll novel.

But a theme emerged on its own and that theme was Jack Daniels. We had Jack Daniels chicken, Jack Daniels cupcakes, Jack Daniels bottles as ornaments and generally so much Jack Daniels that I spent the entire next day wondering whether or not I'd be able to survive the hangover.

But the BBQ was a success. My friend Beth from North Wales came to stay again. She is the perfect person to have around if you’re planning a party. No matter how many cupcakes need to be iced, no matter how stressed I am about the distinct lack of batteries for the fairy lights, no matter how challenging it is to choose the right pair of shoes, she is always able to keep a level head, sort everything out and stick Toddlers and Tiaras on to calm me down.

Everyone had a great time. Auntie Linda insisted on being the ‘quiz master’ despite the fact that the ‘riddles’ she was asking us were, in fact, jokes. Lauren managed to sneak at least three Jack Daniels cupcakes before I managed to explain to her they weren’t chocolate (and then possibly another two afterwards). And I got up on a chair and sang pretty much the entire Frozen soundtrack at the top of my lungs. At one point, during my somewhat overly enthusiastic rendition of Love is an Open Door, it was only my uncle’s quick reactions that stopped me falling off the chair. I didn’t miss a note despite the near death experience.

As the night progressed we ended up squashed into my Dad’s man cave (his shed decked out with all kinds of weird and wonderful man-type things). It was there that we had a sing-a-long to Les Miserables. It was well past midnight by this point so my sincerest apologies to my neighbours.

And then, when the last of my guests got up to leave, the vodka got the better of me and I burst into tears. There is a reason I don’t drink vodka. I’ve sat on a pavement crying into my handbag at the age of eighteen, wailed with strangers in the toilets of Wind Street on more than one occasion and bawled my way through many a walk home in Exeter and vodka is always to blame. It’s a real conflict of interests because I simply can’t rule Cosmopolitans out of my diet.

So, after a lot of singing, dancing laughing, drinking and, eventually, wailing, I headed to bed. And bed is where I stayed for the whole of the next day. Since then even the thought of alcohol turns my stomach. So, odds are, my twenty fourth birthday party will not be Jack Daniels themed. But, crying and vomiting aside, I had a really wonderful time. I only wish I’d eaten more burgers…