It’s Saturday in London and we are pretending that it’s my birthday, even though it’s not in another four days. Daniel wakes me up with lots of presents (that I have to show you in another post) and once again makes an attempt at singing for me as we do in Sweden. He blushes and stops though because for a Canadian boy it’s too much to handle and it cracks me up every time. Our heads are a bit heavy from the previous night but it’s my birthday and nothing can ruin my day. I put on my glamorous black velvet dress with high platform shoes and Daniel’s dangerous bomber jacket. Plus lots of heavy eye makeup of course, because on my birthday I want to be the biggest babe ever. We take the red double decker down to Cambridge Heath where Daniel has booked us a table at Bistrotheque for brunch. Just look at this place. They should sponsor me considering how often I write about them. I order eggs benedict because it combines all the greatness in this world! The man with pink hair plays Taylor Swift on the grand piano and we become one of those couples who make out over the table. I adore how we were both disgusted by PDA and even had a talk about not doing this when we started seeing each other. And wow, now the snogging is beyond control, and I couldn’t be more proud. Afterwards we walk around our old hood in Bethnal Green and I get my haircut at the tiny local hairdressers where they take half an eternity but are so cheap and lovely. They compliment your hair and your job and discuss the difference from when they opened 34 years back and carried knives to work. There is always a drunk lady getting thick pink highlights or somebody dressed up as a wizard agreeing in the chair next to you. We visit the Goodhood Store which is my new fave place, and then there is time for milkshakes at the Love Shake. We share a strawberry milkshake because there is no better flavour. Saboune joins us too! At 3pm we get hungry and the three of us decides that the party should start so we wander over to Sager + Wilde for wine, toasties and other goodies. It is my pretend birthday after all. We’re alone there at first but there are too many thirsty Londoners for that to last long. They play our favourite 70s tracks and the windows fog up with condensation as we catch up about work and cities and flats and love. I’ve missed my boys. London fades into night and we say bye to Saboune to go and have dinner at a Vietnamese place. The Christmas lights decorate every street and the air is turning chillier so it’s nice to hide at Danielle’s bar for a bit. Daniel is awfully rushed and I snap because he is constantly being on his phone. HELLO IT’S MY FAKE BIRTHDAY COULD YOU STOP TEXTING IT’S RUDE!
But then as we enter his dark flat and step into the livingroom it turns out that he has gathered all of by best friends for a surprise party for me!!! <3 I almost cry because this is the nicest thing somebody has ever done and it’s the best freaking birthday I could imagine. So many of my lovelies are there which is so rare as I never seem to be able to see them all during my short weekend visits. My baby Ornie who I miss all the time, and her man. I hang out with my rockstar/business woman/poet Frida talking about unethical sex and bedbugs, how tempting people can be and the reality of job briefs. I also run around like a lunatic, trying to squeeze out as much love out of every single one of these, hearing what they are up to and how they are. There sure are not enough hours in a night to keep up with this many wicked people. We dance and drink gin out of hello kitty mugs and vodka out of milk cartons. I play my cheesiest tunes to everybody’s protest but it’s my party and I dance to whatever the hell I want to and they love me for it. Then I compromise because that’s what friends do too. I receive gifts and kisses and a stylist flatmate falls and rips one of the curtains in his Prada fur coat. We make plans about travels that will never happen and eternal friendships that I refuse to let go of. I wish I could push dawn until next year. They all keep on saying that it feels like I still live here but that the absence is huge at the same time. Inside I’m crashing and burning and still bursting with happiness. In the morning I wake up Ornella as her taxi arrives. She’s one of a few left sleeping in the sofa. Then I crawl back into Daniel’s bed and fall asleep. Damn it should be my fake or real birthday more often. Linn