
I'm basically a five year-old child when it comes to birthdays. That is to say, I love them. I think everyone should wear a crown on their birthday and be treated accordingly. Mine is on the third of December and this year friends of mine are getting married on the day so I'll be spending the evening at their wedding. I don't doubt that this will be lovely but frankly: IT'S.
MY. BIRTHDAY. You wait all year for it and then someone comes along and hijacks it. Not fair.
So I've made like Nanna Betty (she gets to wear a crown every single day) and officially appointed myself another birthday: the twenty seventh of November. Chosen because it happens to be the Saturday before the third of December. One of the most exciting things about Saturday is the
weather forecast: sunny and snowy. This is an excellent stroke of luck. A) it means my girlfriends and I can go for a lovely crisp walk before lunch and then drink
whisky cocktails in front of an open fire, and B) I can happily wear my wellies without looking like an Edinburgh bohemian fuckwit, ensuring complete comfort and no fire-in-the-balls-of-my-feet as I teeter around in heels. Bonus.
Do you remember the wishlists we used to produce before our birthdays as children? Here's mine.
A name necklace.
My name, that is. In gold. And no, definitely not because of Carrie Bradshaw.
This incredible perfume:
Escentric Molecules | Escentric 01Jamie Oliver's 30 Minute Meals. The man is an actual genius. I think this has been one of his best series so far.
A beautiful Victorian
bell jar. The new John Hope Gateway building in Edinburgh's Botanic Gardens has a stunning wall display of bell jars housing various plant specimens. For this reason alone I could happily live there.
A trip to New York's
Momofuku to eat Cereal Milk soft serve ice cream.
A
cameo brooch.
Antlers.
A gorgeous notebook. I've just filled my latest one and I need somewhere new to write lists.
Oh, and a
Charlotte Mann mural please. On the wall of a house which belongs to me. Thanks.