Midnight. Saturday 13th March. I'm sat on the last train from Waterloo to Brentford. This isn't how it was supposed to be but as the train pulls in to Putney the guy sat opposite me strikes up a conversation (prompted by the idiotic comments of a fellow passenger). It turns out this guy grew up in Bristol and supports Arsenal so conversation flows pretty freely for the remainder of my twenty minute journey. As I stand up to make my way off the train, this guy gets up from his seat, kisses me on the cheek and wishes me a very happy birthday. We haven't exchanged names but he is the first to wish me well, in person, on my actual day - it may seem trivial but that gesture will stay with me for a long time.
Friday evening was dedicated to pre-birthday drinks with work folk. It started with birthday cake and wine in the kitchen in the office and then we made our way to a local bar for cocktails. I was supposed to leave at 9pm so I could be home at a reasonable hour and wake fresh-faced on my birthday but the generosity and company of my colleagues made this impossible. One workmate even commented on how the attendance figures for my drinks were higher than some of the previous work socials. After far too many Pineapple Caramel Mojitos, my train journey and a zigzagged walk home from the station, I tucked myself into bed with a smile on my face.
I woke up expecting a lightning bolt on my 29th birthday. I wanted the excitement that birthdays brought when I was a child. My mobile informed me I had received several birthday text messages and a few family members had already tried calling in the annual competition known as "Who Can Talk To The Birthday Girl First?". I opened my bedroom door to find a pile of cards that had arrived in the morning post - this all raised a huge smile and an internal warmth but no lightning bolt.
As I walked into the living room I was greeted by Mum who stood looking proud on her only child's special day. Unconditional love is a wonderful feeling whenever it's experienced but to be the recipient of my Mother's love on my birthday was even more special - but it didn't bring that lightning bolt.
After opening more cards, most of them containing money for my big adventure, I was presented with two bunches of roses (as it was now a month after Valentine's Day and they weren't red, I was exceptionally grateful!). Then followed more calls and messages from family, friends and other loved ones. At midday, family friends arrived, armed with a bunch of beautiful sunflowers and cards with more money inside for my adventure. We had a boozy, bubbly lunch at a cute restaurant on Kew Green. I was born at 13:13 so when the clock struck that time, with charged glasses, the three other people at the table raised a toast to me. I had been on the Earth for twenty-nine whole years. No lightning bolt.
Late afternoon. My Aunt and Uncle arrived with their two daughters. More roses and money for my adventure (I think everyone wants to get rid of me!) as well as being showered with kisses and cuddles by my two favourite girls. And they presented me with homemade birthday cards, both secretly competing for top spot in a tournament they created amongst themselves called "Favourite Birthday Card This Year". They were joint winners. After way too much champagne and cake, I began getting ready for my nighttime celebration feeling extremely grateful that my family and friends were as good me as they were (and always are, in fact).
Whilst prancing about my bedroom to Regina Spektor and attempting to do my make-up (though drinking several glasses of champagne and then applying black eyeliner will never be a process I wish repeat), my phone beeped to let me know I had another facebook wall post , this time from a dear friend. He'd put a link on my wall and as I clicked on it I was excited to see what it lead to. This friend is doing a 365 photography project and that day's capture was dedicated to me. This touching gesture, as well as the day's events thus far, brought a tear of happiness (encouraged by the champagne!) as I felt an overwhelming sense of specialness. But still no lightning bolt.
The call from my Dad came at 7pm. The call I'd expected all day as a parent should definitely want to be one of the first to wish their child well on their birthday, shouldn't they? Not being a parent myself, I don't know this for sure. The two minute conversation that followed whilst I was sat on the Central Line was strained, Dad pissed off because I'd chosen to spend the day with Mum and her family and been made to feel a princess rather than sit in his living room and listen to him lecture me on whatever aspect of my life was stupidly bothering him that day whilst Brat Child was centre of attention. Before he was able to launch into his monologue about how I'd failed him, I pretended the tube was entering a tunnel so I hung up. I wasn't going to let him get to me on my day. It was quite a liberating feeling, really! There was definitely no lightning bolt after that conversation.
So, at 7.30pm, I found myself tottering out of Notting Hill Gate tube station in my three-and-a-half inch Marc Jacobs heels, determined I must get my money's worth out of them having owned them over a year and only worn them once, despite knowing I'd consumed far too much alcohol already to stay upright in them for much longer. I made my way into the secret garden of a charming pub on Portobello Road and was greeted with a warm embrace and huge smile by my good friend. I was also presented with my first unwrappable (yes, a plastic bag counts as wrapping!) gift of the day. After more alcohol we made our way up Portobello Road to the Electric Cinema. Halfway there, after almost falling over, I decided I needed to swap my footwear and had packed a pair of flats in my handbag especially. If my friend was embarrassed by my shoe antics in the middle of the street, he did a very good job of hiding it. Though I can imagine that the thought of having to scoop me up from the ground might have been a more embarrassing prospect for him if I had have landed on my bottom whilst wearing the coveted shoes so he was probably grateful I'd opted to change into sensible foot attire, returning me to my usual not-quite-five-foot height.
The two tickets for the Electric Cinema's 3D screening of Alice In Wonderland were a birthday present from my Aunt, booked weeks before as she knew about my (almost unhealthy) obsession with all films Burton. Neither my friend nor I had been to that cinema before. What a night to lose my Electric virginity, my 29th birthday! Goodness me, did I feel spoiled. And decadent. As I took my seat in a huge leather armchair where my feet didn't reach the ground, with a large glass of pinot noir in hand, I felt incredibly special. The film was excellent, the venue amazing and the company perfect so despite the magical evening there was still no lightning bolt, dammit!
Three minutes to midnight. Saturday 13th March. As I got to the the Westbound Central Line platform at Notting Hill Gate, I put my earphones in and whacked my iPod on to shuffle mode. Even the pod must have known it was a special occasion as the first song it played was my favourite Jeff Buckley number, "Lover You Should Have Come Over". Still no lightning bolt though. At midnight, as the train came down the platform towards me, the driver smiled as he caught my eye. I sat down in an almost empty carriage and that's when it came... no, not the lightning bolt but the realisation. Just as Jeff sang, "...sometimes a man must awake to find, really, he has no one..." it dawned on me that over the past 24 hours I'd had a continual feeling of warm fuzziness. If the lightning bolt had have come at any time during my birthday, that point would have been the climax and everything that followed it would have been anti-climactic as lightning never strikes twice. For 24 hours I'd had a current of electricity flowing through my body, though instead of the negative electrons that make electricity, I'd had positivity coursing through my veins that had surged at various points during the day. Every text message, every facebook wall post, every call, every card, the money towards my adventure, the flowers, the gifts, the 365 project day dedication and a friend setting his Saturday night aside for me - all causing positive charges within me. Even hanging up on my Dad had resulted in an efficacious internal rush!
At no point during the day had I felt neglected or unloved. My friends and family had, without any shadow of a doubt, made me feel special. I realise I'm fortunate to have such incredible people in my life. The Indians say whatever happens on your birthday happens all year round - the next 364 days will see me beaming like the Cheshire Cat I saw on the big screen that night. And the next year will be my Wonderland. x
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