birthday BADass

Growing up, I never ever understood why my mother didn’t like her birthday. AT. ALL. In fact, she positively willed it to pass as painlessly as possible. And, year after year, I thought she was a bit of a spoilsport and a birthday-sort-of-Scrooge.

But this year I totally GET IT.

I’m currently mid stream, drifting through those in-between years.   Never one to shy away from a properly large, arms-above-ahead, party-popper celebration, the flashing disco lights of my 40th are but a mere memory and, while I’m vowing to re-invent the party wheel in time for the big 45 … this year… BLEUGH is just about the sum of how I feel.

So, mix all of the above self-indulgent pitiful woes with a pinch of ‘who might I offend if I don’t invite’ anxiety plus a massive dose of head cold exhaustion, you’ll understand why last Thursday (44 years to the day post entering this age-obsessed world) I just wanted to crawl under the covers and sleep… and sleep…. and sleep.

Of course, I put a brave face on it,  birthday badging up my jumper and leaping forth to reveal myself as The Birthday Boss.

Besides, this was always meant to be a restaurant review as I KNOW you’ll love Lurra (a hell of a lot more than your next birthday). Scooped up by two of my closests, the three of us lunch partied at this new Basque grill on Seymour Place.

lurra restaurant

thumb_PA220108_1024

sourdough with bone marrow.

(Maybe it’s my age) I always forget this street even exists. It’s that place of stillness which happens to lie between the tourist-mayhem of Marble Arch and the hectic chaos of Edgware Road. Yet another reason I love London; curiously remarkable as it unfolds.

courgette flower with cod brandada

courgette flower with cod brandada

Anyway we ate. REALLY well. And gulped pretty rosé too – while delighting in delicious gossip and silly, amusing tales that we never ever get around to sharing.

14 year Rubia Galena ‘Galician Blond’ Prime Rib, Grade 9. TO YOU + ME, AMAZING MEAT.

Of course there was a candle and a song too. I was having such a ball, I had even forgotten it was a birthday at all.

happy BADass day to me

happy day to me

But once back home, I rolled back into my big duvet and called it a day.

 

 

 

 

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