@Life

Turning 33 and melting in the 33 degree heat while trying to be a lady

June 28, 2017

I feel like I blinked and my birthday week was over. They say time flies as you get older, but this is getting out of control. This year rather than gathering friends together to celebrate me getting closer to 40, I decided I wanted to do summer London activities and not be at work (most important!). Five to ten years ago I would have been all over the boozy night out and dancing to the wee hours. But now I’m old and can’t handle my alcohol like I once did. I NEVER used to get hangovers. NEVER. One time I even drank a work party dry of all the wine. When the bottles had run out I even started pouring other people’s full glasses IN TO MINE, whilst standing on a table. I know, you want to party with that. Or film it and label it reality TV. This was back before reality TV was big – I’ve always been a classy chick. Furthermore, it wasn’t even MY work party – it was an ex-boyfriend’s. But, no hangover! I don’t remember getting home that night, apparently I tried to walk down a motorway. But now? Three glasses of wine means a day of pain and crying. Wanting to only eat cheesy carbs and watching telly on the sofa that requires zero concentration.

So, to keep it slightly classier this year we decided we’d go and watch the Aegon Championship tennis at Queen’s on the Monday, followed by a day at Royal Ascot on Tuesday. Little did we know that when planning these activities a month or so in advance that Britain would have a heat wave. Monday we were sat in 33 degree heat, praying for a breeze at the tennis. Don’t get me wrong, it was absolutely stunning and I loved every minute. But a breeze would have been nice, and Phil’s lobster-red knees from having been sat down all day could have done with more sunblock.

On Tuesday a couple of friends joined us for a picnic, Pimms, Prosecco and a bit of good humoured gambling at Royal Ascot. All dolled up we headed out to hedge our bets. It’s funny how betting on horses at Royal Ascot; fascinator atop your head and a glass of bubbles in your hand can be deemed posh, yet really your completing the same act as those people who sit at casinos and pee themselves rather than go to the bathroom for fear someone steals their machine. It’s all gambling. But with Pimms, it’s a day out and a chance to see the Royal family and some posh toffs. Phil made the most money, £10, but spent £40. So really we were all losers. The highlight of course being that Kate Middleton must have received my birthday invitation, as she turned up looking glamorous for the day. Just for me.

Phil took this photo of KMidd, his timing is shit.

 

We ended our three day party on Wednesday with a matinee session of The Book of Mormon. I may upset some people with this… but I didn’t think it was that good. I had heard SO MANY THINGS. Everyone raved about it! Everyone warned me it was the polar opposite of politically correct, which I’m all for, bring it on! Sure, I was laughing out loud at times and tapping my foot to the beat – but more at the PG jokes. The really crass jokes just didn’t do it for me. I almost felt like it was that American slap-stick comedy and that they were trying too hard. I’m glad we went to see it – but if someone asked I would give my honest review – I was expecting more.

It was an absolute struggle to head back to work on Thursday, and even harder when I had to go back to the gym after then being sick on the Friday and Saturday. It’s now Wednesday, already a week later, and I have no clue where that seven days went! It’s July this weekend which means the month of Adele, Phil’s cousin’s wedding and Corfu! My 33rd year hasn’t been too tough and 34th is not looking too shabby either, but I am keen now to lose count of any extra years!

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