Saturday, 19 July 2014

The Best Year Of My Life?


I'm always really suspicious of people who claim that a specific day was the best day of their life.

They usually choose a spectacular day like their wedding day - neatly glossing over the fact that their dress rendered eating impossible, Uncle George spent the day groping the waitresses and their cousin passed out in the roses because someone had managed to convince his Mum the Pimms was a non-alcoholic fruity punch. Or it is the day their child was born - notice it is usually the blokes who go for this one - the women, *rrrriiiiiipppp* not so much.

I can't pinpoint one 'best day' but the ones that are up there are the spontaneous ones where a quick lunchtime drink unexpectedly turned into a day of drinking and debauchery and 1000 anecdotes were born (those days are long gone of course). Or the day I drove up into the mountains with a girl I didn't know that well from my Uni course and came back after a day of skiing in the sun with a new best friend who has remained one to this day.

Best years are a bit different because they span a longer time period so you expect some down days but the good out weigh the bad.

37 (my age, not the year - I'm not that old) I can, categorically state was up there.

I turned thirty seven two weeks after moving into a new house and two weeks later had Olive.

I'd never had a gap year, going straight to university from school and into continuous employment within weeks of leaving.  My maternity leave has been my gap year.

It has been brilliant. I've discovered a new part of London, started gardening, persuaded my twin to move one street away, made a bunch of new friends, not gone to work and - most importantly - hung out with my baby girl who is a happy little dude with a penchant for eating dog food (or trying at least), clicks her tongue when she is trying to communicate and like to scuttle round the house firmly gripping random items in each hand (this week's objects of choice = flooring samples meant for the bathroom).

On Monday I waved 37 goodbye.

I have no idea how 38 can possibly live up to last year's impossibly high standards, but even if it just half as good it'll be bloody amazing.





6 comments:

  1. Happy birthday! And you did show me your courgettes. Thanks again for arthur's yummy tea, I keep meaning (and forgetting) to text you. x

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  2. Happpy belated. I can concur that wedding days are a huge blur of goodness when it comes to reminiscing.

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  3. yay for family around the corner! And i prefer to think life will just keep getting better. Survived IF, dreams having come true, there is so much to enjoy now.

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  4. Happy belated birthday! Today I turn 33 and can tell you that I felt the exact same way about the year my DS was born. I think the next one is going to rank right up there too for both of us.

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  5. Happy birthday, W4I! May next year be as full of good things and all go swimmingly with the IVF
    (Geddit? Sorry).
    xx

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