I am clinging onto the last days of my twenties. On Thursday I won’t be a ’20something just telling it how it is’. I’ll be older. More responsible. Wiser. 30. Still telling it how it is, probably.
Last night I had my 30th birthday party at a fantastic restaurant called Queen Street Rescue. Today, in a sign of getting older, my almost 30 year old body feels weary and I have a headache from too many Moscatos and lemon-vanilla-vodka cocktails. Though my weariness could also be from the shop-til-I-dropped day yesterday. Or from seeing the Foo Fighters on Friday night and not getting home until 1 am. Or dinner out with Stella Young the night before that. Or the channel 31 Christmas party on Wednesday night. Too much action to be had this week. It is indeed the Festival of Carly.
The party was fantastic. It was very me – an elegant dinner and drinks with my parents and good friends. I received some beautiful presents including funds for my New York trip, travel books, a vintage bag, jewellery, a gourmet food hamper, jewellery and gift vouchers (and more!). I got a stunning box of macarons from La Belle Miette…
And a mix tape from an old friend who was one of the first to introduce me to music – I laughed so hard at the cover – Savage Sons!!!
My gifts were gorgeous and I cannot thank my parents and friends enough for them. They are very generous. (There’s a few gifts on my kitchen table from friends who couldn’t make it – the three year old in me is saving these until my actual birthday.) And the messages that were written in my cards are so kind and heartfelt.
But above the gifts was how loved my parents and friends made me feel. Just by being present at my party. People traveled from far away to celebrate with me. A friend from uni – I carried his beer up the hill at O-Week, and he can’t believe how extroverted and drinky and sweary I am since the uni days! A friend from school who I am so glad I recently reconnected with – my new shopping partner. A friend I worked with at the department store. Blogger friends Cheryl (a slave to the party hat) and Heidi. The girls I met at high tea. My babysitter and her (hot new) husband. The friends who I’d come down to stay with in Melbourne – when they were 30 and I was 17 – and they’d take me shopping and to bands (they made me the mixtape!). Friends from No Limits. Friends I work with. And my wonderful, kind, patient, generous (and sometimes strict) parents – the best parents anyone could wish for.
My Dad wrote some powerful words in the card. They made me cry.
Dear Carly. You’ve made it – 30 at last. How can we ever forget the day when we returned from the Royal Children’s Hospital in Melbourne without you. We didn’t think you would make it, and neither did they. Thank God for the doctors. Love you heaps – Dad.
I think about how lucky I am. How sick I was. How difficult things have been sometimes. And how far I’ve come. I am so thankful for every day, every opportunity, the fantastic times I have had, and all the friends and family I have who have supported, encouraged and believed in me. So much love. Thank you everyone for making me feel very special, and celebrating with me. I love you all.