For the last few years my birthdays have fallen a bit flat; often marred by tube strikes or torrential rain so that few people were able to join me to celebrate. This year however, tops my list of all time best birthdays. I had a weekend full of fun. We went to Torture Garden on Friday, then I ended up staying at a friend's flat until late Saturday, chatting and barbeque-ing and generally relaxing. On Sunday another friend and I shared a birthday picnic. The weather was glorious and loads of people turned up. We had music, hula-hoops and plenty of wine, and generally had a fantastic time. It's a long time since I've enjoyed a birthday so much, and it was lovely to start my second quarter of a century in such fine style. I feel it bodes well.
I mentioned briefly before that people always want to talk to me when I'm in fancy dress. Well, this weekend I found an even more certain way of starting conversations with strangers: carry a doll. I have a poppet that I made at the Nowhere festival this year, and on Sunday I took her with me to my birthday picnic. On the way home I couldn't fit her back in my bag so I carried her, and the number of people who stopped me to chat about her or ask if they could hold her was unbelievable. When I explained to one lady why Mini-Meg was so grubby (she was born in the desert and has a slightly dusty quality), a gentlemen sitting opposite me started telling me about his home in Saudi Arabia, and how much he misses the desert. I may have to start taking her out more often as I love any excuse to chat to people. Admittedly, hauling her around does make me look like a bit of a lunatic. At Nowhere one of my friends pointed out that those of us who made them looked like those Victorian woman who lost babies and went mad, so were given dolls to nurse in lieu. I don't see anything strange about it though. Mini-Meg and her little friend Cara Muneca had a wondeful time at the picnic. She told me so when I was tucking her in that night after her bottle...
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