twenty-five

There was nothing blue about my Monday this week because it was in fact my birthday! (Monday birthdays are particularly awesome as they tend, in my case anyway, to elongate your celebrations by encompassing the previous Saturday & Sunday, or, depending on how you look at it, the monday birthday gives you a three day weekend!) The long birthday weekend evolved as follows...

Saturday: House warming/birthday gathering at the flat. The celebratory event also meant people could gaze upon our lovely shelves as well as nosey about the place. Mitch made a rum based punch which went down rather well and I made some cupcakes. Despite the v.wintery conditions and snowfall through the night (and a distinct lack of victoria line) my lovely friends made it to Brixton and we all got a bit pissed! :)

Sunday: After a lie-in and a quick clear up I journeyed to my parents' house. On route to the station I made a slight detour through snow-covered Brockwell park (v.jealous of all the kids with their sledges, for those who don't know the park it's very hilly). Back in Whitton my brilliant mum made a roast dinner with coffee and walnut cake to follow! And as if that wasn't enough I was also showered with birthday gifts from mum, dad, sis and my nan :)

Monday: As I am now officially mid-twenties I, like a supposable adult, went to work in the morning but the afternoon was my own. Met Mitch at Baker Street for a poke around The Sherlock Holmes Museum. It's quite a bizarre experience. The house is laid out as if the fictitious detective had actually lived there (with Dr Watson and Mrs Hudson) in the late 19th Century. There's lots of artifacts and props (deerstalker hats, magnifying glasses and the like) as well as costumed individuals and extremely enthusiastic tourists. At the very top of the house it gets a little too Madame Tussauds for my liking (the collection of life-size models representing various characters and villains in Arthur Conan Doyle's stories is a little creepy). However, also at the top of the house is a book for visitors to flick through, a book full of letters to Sherlock Holmes. Most of the letters are written by school kids but from all over the world and some are awesome. My fav one was from a very ernest child wanting to warn Sherlock that Moriarty was alive, spotted on the child's route to school every morning on the number 154 bus. Inland Revenue were also in the book, wanting to know who was occupying 221 Baker Street if Mr. Holmes had indeed moved on (haha)!

A couple of hot chocolates and a game of travel scrabble (:D), followed by a burger and a moose beer, rounded off with a quick visit to Gosh comics on Berwick Street (and a purchase or two) rounded off my perfect 25th birthday!

That's a rather beardy Sherlock Holmes...