Happy Birthday, to me. It is the definitive birthday.
I hear myself telling everyone I am sixty now, as if it is an aforementioned excuse for anything I may be faltering in, for feeling suddenly slower than I did last week – I can only say it is the weirdest feeling, and I am an idiot for saying it, or feeling so. Self sixty sabotage has raised her ugly head. She has been banished.
It has also been the beginning of a wonderful birthday month. Autumn in London and Paris. Could not have asked for a more beautiful setting than these two heavenly places. Now that there is a puppy in the family, the park walks take on a whole new significance and makes them more special.
My family spoilt me. Tea at the Ritz, a weekend in Paris, but more importantly, with their time, and love.
It has been a while since I was on My Silver Street, a good break is sometimes needed; to re-group, review and re-ignite the sparkle once the fires have all been put out. Very excited about the new, positive phase, post a deal of sadness, but also an immense amount of learning, forgiving (even myself) and appreciation of my life as it is now.
We find ourselves in the midst of the longest separation in history, the Brexit tragedy. The political world is a farce and despite hearing that house prices are plummeting here in London, I will not be able to afford anything more than a deserted and damp garage at the moment. Undaunted and optimistic she remains. Things do change. It is Halloween today and the city festooned with pumpkins, cobwebs, spiders and other spooky things. Already being replaced with the Christmas offerings, and as I sit here in Peter Jones, it is dark outside already. The winter has arrived. Getting the Christmas list together.
Am going to travel more, slow down when I need to and add to the richness of my life. Turning sixty was met with some trepidation to be fair, the fifties were anything but easy at times – and let’s see where this incredible Silver Street of mine will lead me. What about your journey?