Thirty-what?!

Happy Birthday to Me! Or more accurately Happy Day You Me, although Max has outgrown that phrase which I loved so much. He quite correctly and clearly wished me a 'Happy Birthday Mummy' earlier, handing me a yellow meadowfoam from his tight fist (the flower bit involved much prompting from Dom). So I am now firmly in my mid, even late, thirties which is a hard pill to swallow - gulp. On a happier note we had pasties for lunch - a Cornish treat from Gold Rush country thanks to a friend. There was much lazing in the sunshine and then delicious chocolate cake for tea, even Oli wanted to get his hands on it. And I am now wearing cozy slippers and drinking a beer - that sounds so good doesn't it? Perhaps being this old isn't so bad after all.