14th Birthday Memories

Howdy!
I have just recently recovered from my crazy birthday weekend. I scheduled a tummy bug perfectly to hit me on the big day which gave the whole idea of stuffing cake into my face a very darkly-humorous twist. I meant to write this post many moons ago, alas, the dreaded beasts that appear in the form of homework had begun heaping on my desk. I am writing it now before the memories fade, and thus, without further ado, I shall get crack-a-lacking onwards!

My great ol' pal, Shannypops, quick-stepped on over to my house in order for us to get ready together (with the aids and utilities of many laughs over caught-up BBC iPlayer episodes, highly flawed eye-liner attempts and the continuous snapping of now-mortifying 'selfies' - why not?).
Together we made an attempt to sophisticatedly glide to Prezzo, whilst juggling the cake, favours, cameras and party necessities; where we proceeded to wait for my remaining well-wishers to arrive. 

I can honestly, meticulously and thoroughly review the food in such an excitable manner. It was excellent, I tell you! I began with Grilled Goats Cheese with Caramelized Onions on a bed of Bruschetta and Salad of some sorts. Delicious! Pour le plat principal, je ate Penne Arrabiata, and it was just YUM! Pour le dessert, I had some divine concoction sculpted from meringue (although where ever that was hidden was not evident; I tell myself they ran out.), vanilla ice cream, too much sugar and crushed hazelnut. My, oh, my; it was something good - in spite of the slightly nauseating, overwhelming rush of sugar going through your brain with every spoonful. Half the portion would have been preferable. 

The cake and favours swayed down the 'somewhat-kitsch' road, having been inspired by nostalgia and sweet childhood memories. The favours consisted of tea biscuits with edible, sugary faces and boudoir biscuits/sponge fingers/ladyfingers (what ever tickles your pickle), turned racing cars. Ingenious, I know. At previous birthday parties, I had what is commonly known as a 'Barbie cake'. A cake encorperating a real Barbie doll with a ballgown of yummy cake. And so it was done. The smashing lady that was the cake maker trotted on down creative lane and came up with something so adorably darling. It made my cute sensors go beep. 

I ended the oh so fabulous night with what society likes to call a sleepover; consisting of too many easily-excitable teenage girls, powered solely on sugar, discussing life's many important topics and re-watching awful yet necessary 'sleepover' films. How better to spend a night?
On the big day itself, my lovely female parental heroically and willingly rose out of bed and prepared a trés yummy brunch of French toast, hot cross buns, toasted waffles, strawberries, Nutella, syrup and cheese. 'Twas scrummy, though it did not do many good things for my already poorly tummy. Then it was gift opening time which was terribly fun and exciting and I will take this overly-long sentence to say a muchly loving, fat, sloppy, with lots of huge and kisses, thank you! 
Lovingly,