50

I was 50 on March 10. It feels like a grand, big milestone, thanks for asking.

Mr. Waffle organised a surprise dinner for me on the night before my birthday and I was totally surprised by the organisation, by the capacity of people I know to keep a secret and by the numbers who turned up clutching presents for me. Even some of my old friends from Brussels came over which was an even bigger surprise. It was lovely. The only real downside is that Mr. Waffle will be 50 next year and I fear that I will never be able to live up to the standard he has set.

Check out his card – purchased in Denmark last summer.

Colleagues from work had a little tea and a present for me as well. All in all, it was quite delightful.

I made an absolute killing on the bunches of flowers front – I love flowers. Although, given that he knew what was to come, Mr. Waffle should probably have restrained me from buying that bunch of tulips on the morning of March 9.

The day itself I spent with my Brussels friends who had travelled over and the day after, Mr. Waffle and I went for a walk in the mountains which was a little chilly but very beautiful.

Perhaps this is the start of the much vaunted 50s where people start to really enjoy themselves as they shake off expectations and just have a good time. On the minus side we went skiing the following week (of which much, much more anon) and, now, a week after our return, my knees have just recovered. I can’t help feeling that dodgy knees has to be a classic 50s experience. Sigh.