Today I have made things. Birthday presents and birthday cake. I created birthdayness with my hands.
I went on an emergency shopping trip to John Lewis to buy some extra duck down cushion pads, which is possibly the most middle-class thing I've ever said in my life. Oxford Street on a Saturday lunchtime is a particular joy I could have done without. I don't find it quite as horrendous as most people say they do, but it nevertheless makes me into a horrible person inside my own head, hating everyone who stops or slows down or has a big bag or appears to be frightened of escalators.
Now I have to go out, to create birthdayness with my presence. And then tomorrow, I will create birthdayness by giving my boyfriend a handmade cushion with a picture of his face on it. Why not?
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