My birthday started with coffee in bed. I passed on breakfast in bed, cause croissants crumbs are absolute buggers to get out of the bed clothes. I had pressies. A fabulous perfume which, to be honest is more like this. My day went from splendid to outstanding, when the God of Poetry declared my poetry is coming on; so much so that he didn't scrawl all over one of my offerings. In the evening, we were a small, and drunken bunch at the pub. This week has been so fantastic I'm beginning to think that I can cope with 37 as a number after all. Especially since today, work gave me the most amazing bag full of creams, potions and lippy. How lucky am I?
This weekend I will be filling out my application for the MA in Digital Art; and we shall see.