Just like the old days in London, tonight we celebrated at Wagamamas, perched out on the edge of the harbour at Queens Wharf. Same great food, edamame, katsu curry, raw juice. What has changed in the last 6 years since I last went to one of these great noodle bars is that we now have 2.8 children making swords out of chopsticks and dropping their noodles all over the floor, smearing the windows with fizzy sticky fingers. Also different was the fact we have eaten and are back home in PJs tucked up by 8.12 pm.
6 years ago, or longer. Time goes by. Am a bit nostalgic all round tonight as am on the eve of my 35th birthday. Might be time to invest in a skin care routine and some of that anti wrinkle night paste that's made out of sheep placentas. My eyesight has already gone (been wearing nana specs for 27 years now). I'm not even going to mention my bunions, except to the saleslady in the Kumfs shop. Its probably nearly time to decide what I'm going to do when I grow up.
Perhaps I'm being a little dramatic. Big Brother has been scaring me all day by running around the house screeching in a horrible high pitched voice 'WE'RE GONNA LIVE !' then in the low pitch 'WE"RE GONNA DIE', over and over again. (No idea where he picked that line up, except he's got it a bit wrong and says 'we're gonna lift' - 'we're gonna die'.)
Still, I suppose he is right. Cancel the placenta order, who cares how old I look as long as I'm laughing. No use getting all 'agey' about it now. Heres to the next 35 years of lift-ing.
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