Sunday was my actual birthday, and suffice to say I was no longer bright eyed and bushy tailed. Oh no. In fact I was a little bit pale. My lovely husband had all the ingredients for an English breakfast with bloody Mary's. I stuck to water with a splash of Alka-Seltzer. By lunchtime I was feeling a little bit better, and was whisked away (well, my slumpen body was put in the car) to the Bull & Last, just by Hampstead Heath.
Monday was business as usual. I realised that I may be a year older but I'm absolutely no wiser, as the second day of my hangover kicked in. At least by day two I could face a bacon butty and a cup of tea, traditional "morning after" fare. I then had to go into work on the Strand to mop up the last bits of a project and race across town to a meeting in North London. I stopped off at Flat Planet, a little lunch bar by Carnaby Street, which I'd been told was really good. Its schtick is that it tops spelt flatbread with a range of different toppings. I had, on the waitresses recommendation, mushroom and blue cheese pesto. Yum. It's such a simple idea, I'm going to try to recreate it at home and give up on all the faff involved in trying to make your own pizza base.
Tuesday was a day of sack cloth and ashes. It was a day for wearing jeans and my husband's jumper, and hunkering down in my office (bedroom). It was a day for eating vegetables and enjoying the warmth and comfort a big bowl of lentil soup can bring. Me and glitz, alcohol, animal products are having a brief break while I drink green tea and go a bit Zen. Just for a bit, obviously.
My husband and uncle Brendan went out on Wednesday night - leaving me alone with a cake tin full of chocolate brownies left over from Saturday night. It was a testing night. It wasn't a question of should I have one, but of how many I could have without serious self-loathing. The answer is two! I obviously like myself quite a lot. I had them with apple puree and Greek yoghurt in an attempt to persuade myself it was a healthy option.
Thursday was lunch out with my stepdad, John. We went to Borough Market with son number 2, grazing on Damascene salads, Lincolnshire sausage rolls, Argentine empanadas and potted shrimps. I spotted the boys from Cannon & Cannon selling their wares, but didn't go over to say hello as I felt a bit like a stalker as I knew I was going there for dinner again tonight, with a journo friend who missed my birthday bash. Back on the booze? Possibly. More beef jerky? Definitely.