Happy Birthday to Me!

Every year, I throw myself a birthday party at a local 5-star hotel near Circular Quay that has the best-est ever Sunday lunch buffet -- lots of very fresh and yummy seafood (prawns/shrimp, two kinds of crab, oysters), sushi, salads, roasts & veg, breads and desserts. I rarely make it past the seafood and dessert but have seen the rest of it on other people's plates.

I book a table for 12 (my shout) and only invite the friends that I want to have lunch with that year. The group changes from year to year depending on, well, random chance mostly. And it's 'Girls Only', much to the disappointment of husbands and partners whose claims of sexual discrimination fall on deaf ears. Because some of my friends have mobility problems, they can't stick us in the back in the corner ... we get a big table smack dab in the middle of the room, usually right next to the seafood part of the buffet. Cuts down on wasted travel time.

The odd bottle of champers which just to adds to the festive atmosphere and ... how shall I say it ... removes any hope of reserve or restraint from a very strong and enthusiastic group of women who start off the afternoon looking all mature and responsible. Imagine the looks we get from the patrons of this rather posh restaurant when the conversation really gets going! You can hear the laughter and conviviality from outside the restaurant in the lift lobby. Probably further.

Now, I actually look forward to my birthday every year. Growing older is mandatory. Growing up is optional.