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I used to be a birthday person.

I was the child teenager 20-something-year-old that counted down the months, weeks, days, hours and minutes; that insisted on a birthday week of celebrations; that felt no birthday was complete without a homemade cake with butter icing so I could revel in its sugary delight and that would without doubt make sure EVERYBODY ( I’m talking close friends to the morning postman) knew it was my big day.

In the weeks leading up to turning 22 I did not count. I barely summoned the enthusiasm to organise dinner with friends. I requested no cake (feeling bloated would only have added to the distresses of the day) and if it wasn’t for Facebook, I’m pretty sure that only my nearest and dearest would have wished me many happy’s.

 I know what you’re thinking: grow up, man up and stop moaning, and I agree. What is it about turning 22? I feel no different, yet it is my first birthday where I can’t predict what the year will bring. I have finished education, I have a degree, I have an idea of what I would like the future to bring but this seems to change on a weekly basis and I feel in limbo.

It’s scary.

However, my dad (a very wise man) wrote in my birthday card that you have to take every opportunity to “have fun with those who you love to be with and who love to be with you” and truthfully, I couldn’t agree more.

It turned out to be a great 24 hours of family, friends, fabulous food and lots of bubbles.


It began at Il Baretto in London’s Marylebone on my Birthday Eve. This is definitely a special occasion go-to. I had the tuna tartare to start and though it was delicious, after tasting the buratta I was green with envy. The lamb chops were up there with the best I’ve ever tasted and the chips were gobbled too quickly to have been papped – but at least that explains how we felt about them.

Celebrations ended the following evening at Covent Gardens Fire and Stone where we feasted on mouth watering-ly good pizza’s and uber-cool cocktails. I had the duck pizza – a strange but fabulous concept. Fire and Stone is reasonably priced and while I got there to find I had booked for the wrong night (you would have thought I’d have known the date of my own birthday…), we were found a table very quickly and with little fuss. Phew.



Turning 22 may not be something to shout from the roofs about but it is an excuse for a few too many drinks, great food and last but absolutely not least, great company.

Have a lovely week!