i know that you're not broken

Birthdays are funny things. We get older every day, every hour, but we celebrate like we spend a year in stasis before suddenly moving on to the next. That's not how we grow or life progresses at all. I wasn't worried about celebrating away from home when I left, because I'd be wherever I was and that would be amazing. I'd miss my friends and family of course, but I'd see them when I got home; it wasn't a big deal at all. That changed when there was suddenly someone I was never going to see again, and he was supposed to be here in London. I've got the next best thing, of course, but it's still hard.

That said, I'm 22 now.

My birthday eve was a great night of homemade pasta, wine & gin fizz, wandering along the river with ciders, laughter and talking and bonding, of meeting Steve, the not-hell's angel from the previous post.

When we woke up yesterday, Hannah made me a delicious birthday breakfast and we ate it watching Ace of Cakes. Then it was off for a day of wandering through Camden's intoxicating multicoloured maze, where I treated myself to a dress, and we ate Moroccan and went for tea at a gorgeous, friendly little cafe where they were playing music from The Last Five Years, and gave me a free birthday macaron.

And then we were off to Kensington and the Royal Albert Hall, for Eric Clapton, supported by the Lowriders, where we were the youngest people in attendace. It was a brilliant concert, and the Hall is easily the best venue I know - intimate without being crowded, and with perfect acoustics. Clapton is, of course, a musical god, and I feel so lucky to have seen him live. So, yes, an amazing performance, but it was hard to get through. I was doing okay until I looked round at the crowd and saw a man and his son there together, which had me crying. But the music buoyed me back up because that's what music is for. And by the end of the night I was okay again, because that's what friends are for. Hannah and I went home and finished off the day with pizza, cocoa, boozy tiramisu, and sitcoms.

All in all, I'd say it was a pretty good birthday.

there was pointed singing.

life is so much better when you've got friends around.

like tonight: yummy food, cooked in my teeny tiny kitchen with barely enough room for the three of us. tipsy wanderings through hammersmith. the river is beautiful, always. beautiful ladies to giggle and gossip with. gorgeous eye-candy. the perfect city for people watching. drunken ramblings for candy and more booze and then settling on mcdonald's because it's the only place open at midnight. eating it under a tree on a sidewalk. a drunken not-irish, not-policeman, not-hell's angel stopping for a surreal chat. ringing in my birthday like a boss.

yesterday: brick lane wanderings, an afternoon spent lounging in a brilliant cafe/bar, curry for dinner, and then dancing to house, despite the poster advertising drum'n'bass and dub step.

saturday: the arrival of my bff. the reconnection with an amazing highschool friend. the reintroduction to a brilliant lady who, stupidly enough, has been living less than twenty minutes away from me for eight months and i've managed never to run into. delicious dinner. the ridiculousness of eurovision. talking, talking, talking, laughing, talking. photos. love.

i am happy. i am surprised by this, but it's true. i am happy. i am happy.