Pooch took me out for an extremely posh and nice dinner last night. I basically killed it in knee high red boots and an original 1964 clutch bag Mater had given me for my birthday.
Because yes, it was my birthday yesterday. I had a pretty awesome day. Multiple presents (that's the way uhuh uhuh I like it uhuh uhuh) including a solution to the cat conundrum I had not previously considered from my sister.
Plus the aforementioned bag.
Isn't it amazing? Look at this attention to detail. Little divuts cut out where the shoulder strap finding pops out if you choose to use the shoulder strap.
They don't make em like that anymore. Not in Primark anyway.
The day itself was spent in leisurely pursuit of a tidy flat and a few more rows on the lace shawl. Both achieved and having suited and booted myself I was off to Hawksmoor in Guildhall (near Bank). It was well lush. Lush that is until about 3.30am this morning when I started feeling somewhat uncomfortable. Pooch tells me it can't be food poisoning because we shared everything and he had a lot more of it than I did. But I dunno. Seems like a big coincidence timing wise for it to be a stomach bug.
That said it was a glorious meal for which I am truly grateful. I
stand blog before you now as a 34 year old woman, no pets, no kids, divorced and dating her ex-husband.
I have always much preferred even numbers.
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