Happiness is sitting in fleece pyjamas, cup of tea in hand, reading Oh Comely magazine and listening to music by Peggy Sue.
Probably not for you - but for me, this is happiness. Of course, other things make me happy - but little else stirs my imagination and evokes warm fuzzy feelings of content the way this series of events does.
It was my birthday yesterday and as I hurtle head first towards the end of my 20s I feel as if I know myself better than ever. I know what makes me happy, I know what makes me sad and more importantly I know what I need to work on. I know that I enjoy routine, from the series of yoga moves I practice every evening to my specific pattern of tea/coffee consumption Monday–Friday - and I know that change both empowers and terrifies me.
I know that I have a long way to go and that I am far from the finished article.
My birthday weekend was the epitome of this. I drove myself and Joe to Guildford on Saturday filled with gusto and proceeded to kiss a brick wall with the front of my car, shattering any illusions I may have had about being a confident driver. I quickly realised this was likely to be the first of many mistakes I'll make and calmed myself down. Saturday night I put on a nice dress and drank dark and stormys with friends, an evening that started off civilised and ended with bacon sarnies.
On Sunday (my actual birthday) I enjoyed my hangover in GBK and muttered the phrase "I'm too old for this s**t" more than once. My mum baked me brownies, my sister painted me a beautiful picture and Joe spoiled me with presents and plans. Today I took the day off work to spend my birthday money before embracing the fleece pyjamas Joe's mum got me and settling in for an evening of reading.
Now I have been suitably inspired, I will probably scoff some of the many chocolates gifted to me by friends and watch Grey's Anatomy.
So while I may not be the most mature person my age, in between turning 27 and turning 28 I feel I've grown more than other years. A sentiment I'm choosing to celebrate with a tattoo. Is this mature or wise? Probably not. Do I care? Hell no. It's my birthday and I'll ink if I want to.
Here's to another year of growing.