I do love a good birthday…
I’m going to a birthday party next weekend.
‘Oh that’s nice Melissa, let your hair down, quaff a few drinks, have a dance and enjoy yourself,’ I hear you say.
Well, I’m probably not going to.
I might wear my hair down (depending on where I am in my hair-washing cycle) but last time I checked nobody quaffs Ribena and the only dancing at a one-year-old’s birthday bash is head shoulders knees and toes.
That’s correct. The birthday boy is going to be one.
Officially I’ll tell you that this is a momentous occasion and a vitally important milestone that must be celebrated.
Off the record I don’t understand why lots of adults who would, without exception, rather be somewhere else have to gather to congratulate a baby for 365 days worth of sleeping, eating, and the other thing babies do a lot.
This child, who I shan’t name because it seems a little early in his life to be derided on the internet, will not remember the occasion. He will be more interested in wrapping paper and boxes than the gifts. And he will sleep through large portions of his own party.
But I’ll be awake. Does this seem fair?
If the child were turning five, I get it. I remember my fifth. I know there was a pony involved and junk food. No idea who else was there, I only had eyes for the pony.
But one seems a little premature for a human birthday celebration (although I reserve the right to completely change my mind if and when I have my own).
What is worth a party however is when a lovely hotel turns one. If it’s survived a year it means enough guests have come to stay to pay the bills and the chances are they liked it because these days bad hotels get quickly hammered on-line and then die a swift death.
So I’d like to raise a toast to a beautiful little Portuguese hotel – that never wets the bed or demands to be fed at three in the morning – Carmo’s Boutique Hotel which turns one in a couple of weeks.
And best of all, you don’t have to buy it a present but it’s got you a little something.