Dear Diary,
Oh what a night! This morning I have to admit to nursing a slight headache after last night’s fabulous party. The girls at the salon certainly did make a huge fuss over me because yesterday I had reached quite a milestone - my thirtieth birthday. Oh yes, I have been experiencing the full gamut of feelings from hopeful anticipation, dread, fear and regret to say goodbye to my twenties. No longer am I a bright young thing, no longer a mere slip of a gal, hardly an old maid (not a wrinkle or grey hair in sight) but a mature businesswoman with responsibilities!
The girls closed up the salon at the end of our working day, but with a surprisingly swift sweep up and polish, which did arouse my suspicion somewhat. I went home as usual with my flat mate Grace. She seemed to be a little on edge, curiously smiling to herself and frequently disappearing into the kitchen with the accompanying sounds of clattering cake tins and the rustle of paper. Grace insisted that we should both wear our best cocktail dresses and that I brush the mothballs away from my mink stole, because “tonight is going to be just swell”. At last, Grace announced that a black taxicab had arrived at the front door and that we really ought to hurry. I noticed her stow something away in the boot at the back of the cab, the driver doffing his cap cheerfully as he ushered us into the back seats. A short ride later and the cab stopped outside the salon. Grace paid the fare and the winking driver disappeared to retrieve the mysterious cargo from the boot, whilst Grace steered me towards the salon entrance. By this time I was utterly bemused and wondered what on earth was going on. After fumbling with the keys, we finally got the door open, suddenly the lights went on and a rousing cry of ‘SURPRISE!!’ startled me so much that I nearly fainted on the spot! Oh my! It seems that all of my regular customers and half the street was invited! Everyone was wearing paper hats, cheering and waving their half-pint glasses of stout in the air. Paper chains and lanterns decked the salon and a splendid buffet had been laid out, all in honour of my birthday! I was so thrilled and delighted that a little tear of joy started to roll down my cheek. Thomas Dudley, the motor mechanic, gallantly offered me his handkerchief. I was very thankful to him for this kind gesture but quite relieved to discover that the hanky was neatly pressed and clean, although his fingernails were still rather stained with engine oil.
