First of all, a huge MERRY CHRISTMAS to every single one of you! I hope you had the best day getting spoilt, fat and drunk. As some of you might know, it was my birthday last week. It’s 5 days before christmas, and I always get asked how it feels to have my birthday so close to christmas. I always respond that I’ve never known anything else so I don’t really know, but that it makes Decemeber super exciting. I also (annoyingly) get asked if anyone ever gives me one gift overall instead of two. I probably would if I was an only child, but my parent’s fear of ever making us feel like there’s a favourite in the family prevents this from happening. Thank goodness.
So, this leads me to brunch. I love brunch. You know that. Birthday brunch is a ritual. But since zero of my family was here, I didn’t want to make a huge fuss about it. I was also flying to Singapore that night, so I just wanted a relax, chilled, casual brunch. No big deal. I decided to have a few of my favourite girls over (and one very lucky Boy) and have a great morning before I packed my bags.
I’d had set my alarm for 8am to prepare, but the first obstacle occured when we went out to The Box the night before, came home at 4am, and I slept through my alarm until 9:30. We rushed to the cake place at 10am, and it was not open. Boy rang until they picked up and got them to deliver it. I can’t remember if I was in a sulky panic or still drunk – probably a little of both. We picked up coffee and a mountain of pastries (and got a Latte for a very happy Uber driver) and finally came home to start getting our shit together.
I say we, but Boy got his shit together. I was running around like a crazy person trying to find the squeezy bottles and putting together the table grills, as people would be ringing the doorbell and I’d be unaware since I couldn’t hear it over the music and my panting.
Oh yeah, I was having a DIY pancake brunch. I hope the squeezy bottles and table grills sound a little more normal now. Kind of.
I used the giant champagne glass I got at my last birthday to hold the pastries. It was beautiful and full to the brim, but I only decided to start taking photos when it was half empty. Cue filling the glass with some mini bagels to make it slightly more attractive.
Boy had been a birthday angel and sorted out all the toppings we needed (apart from the Peanut Butter Chips, I took care of those – proudly, if you couldn’t tell).
I’d also sent him pancake batter recipes a couple of days before, and he whisked them all up. I was about to state words referring to him being the best Boy, but I didn’t want you to think I was all soppy and uncool. He aight.
There was also champagne. Lots of it. I was unsure how I felt since I was so hungover. To drink and get rid of the hangover, or to stop and try and make it through the rest of the day?
I’d gone crazy at the airport since there was a sale on (I thought I could only by two but apparently from Copenhagen to London I can get up to TEN) but I didn’t really think about the fact that most of the girls drove here. Dang it.
Oh well, there was always the cake to look forward to…
It’d been delivered by this point (thank goodness). Isn’t she a beauty?
The pancake festivities began. Chocolate, red velvet, whatever you like.
Suddenly, we transformed into artists.
Frankie even drew me. Apparently I like doing the splits and wear a ball as a dress.
(The camera gets a bit blurry from all the heat).
I think one of my favourites of the day was Alex’s reindeer, matching her jumper.
I, on the other hand, hand no bloody clue what I was doing.
My only hope was to draw things and get a good ‘It’s My Birthday’ Instagram pictures out of it.
Once we were stuffed and out of our creative juices, it was present time.
I love present time.
It’s times like these that I’m thankful for how well my friends know me. I love these girls!
One by one, people started pealing away to their other commitments. And as stuffed as I was, I couldn’t not blow out some candles. It wouldn’t be right.
Hello, salted caramel goodness.
The perfect way to start a morning, and to get over a hangover. Turning 22 couldn’t have been sweeter (but actually, so much sugar intake).
Thank you to my beautiful girls, and to my favourite Boy who whisked that batter, scrambled those eggs, and got our shit together on behalf of this crazy 22 year old chick.
I want to tell you that the rest of the day was exciting, but we actually took a well-deserved nap. Then I had a come down from the alcohol and more or less cried about having an hour to pack since I napped for so long.
But then I got upgraded at the airport. HUZZAH! TO SINGAPORE!