Cake for breakfast is a rather good way to start one's thirties.
I also finished my first day of thirty with cake - a different one.
So, how did I spend the last night of my twenties? Having a dream I pashed Chuck Norris. Definitely time to leave.
Nearly got hit by a motorbike on the way to work the other morning and was ever so pleased that I managed not to, especially when I got to work and discovered that my underwear was on inside out.
Back to my all-important thirtieth - my workmates gave me flowers and I gave them cake. Win win. Then I skived off early and went to the Tate Modern with Kruse in an attempt to be cultured. And then met up at the pub with Katie to recover. And then went home to have fush'n'chups and Kruse made me a cake and we watched more Twin Peaks and it was all pretty good, really. Points to Ruthie for her T-shirt and Mother for the book of Katherine Mansfield stories. Had completely forgotten about KM, but was reminded by James and requested it for my birthday. Mum says she went into Whitcoulls to ask if they had a copy and the young lass behind the counter said 'Who?'. What are they teaching them in schools these days?
Right -will finish today pondering bananas. I only like them if they're sliced and with something. Disguised, if you will. Had very long conversation with workmates about pros and cons of bananas and other people's weird food 'things'. I looked positively normal in comparison to the baked beans on toast but only a spoonful in the middle and the butter has to be completely melted - no lumps or I'm not eating it, girl.
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