I turned 63 at the end of January, and have no idea where the time has gone. But boy, it’s all been a lesson! And I am only just starting to realise that now!

Having a birthday in January has often, from my experience, been a bit of a damp squib. People have no money, we have no money, people are partied out. January can often seem like a meh month for most. And let’s not get into dry January!

But despite it all I have always looked forward to my birthday as I have got older. Even last year when my birthday fell on a long awaited Saturday (isn’t Saturday a great day to have your birthday?) a huuuuge storm hit Ireland leaving us in total darkness from the Friday through to 11pm on the Saturday night. But I still enjoyed it. I enjoyed sitting with RD in the firelight, reading to him. We were snuggled, we were warm, there had been no huge damage to our property we were blessed. (By the Fae who live amongst the hawthorn tree boundaries in our garden no doubt.)

This year was a totally different experience from the last 10 or so birthdays. We actually had the funds to go away for the weekend. Experiences will be our way forward, and spending more time together.

A lovely friend who lives in Northern Ireland, and would dearly love to retire to Donegal, looked after the dogs. We had no stress worrying about them in kennels, which they hate, which meant we could relax and enjoy it even more. She said it was like a little mini break for her, in our little house with views over the mountains and all it’s sparkly lights. When I messaged her she said she had not slept so well in the last year. I was really pleased.

So off we went to Donegal Town.

Donegal Town is only about 40 minutes from us, through the Blue-stack Mountains. It is a lively quintessential Irish Town, and we had always wanted to visit the multitude of quirky Irish pubs in and around The Diamond (think town square).

On our first night, after our freshly made burger and chips, we had a snooze to prepare. The pubs in Donegal town don’t shut until 3am at the weekends, so we had plenty of time, and arrived in our first pub, right opposite the hotel at about 9.30pm.

After being ill at the end of the year, we were paced, and came back to the hotel at about 1.30 pm. A bit squiffy, but a good time was had, chatting to the young staff.

The next day we vetoed breakfast and had lunch in the Castle Bar, an award winning restaurant, specialising in seafood. It was amazing. We sat in the bar, which is part of Donegal Castle, by a roaring fire, overlooking the castle. I had pan fried hake, on a bed of mash and creamed cabbage, and lemon cream sauce. RD had the most amazing fish pie. All followed by apple pie, and chocolate fondant.

We the made our way back to the hotel, buying newspapers on the way, for a chill, followed by a swim in the pool.

That evening we went back to the Castle Bar as it was sedate, and Donegal Town was buzzing. I decided to have a water chaser with any glass of wine, deciding I was a sedate 63 year old. Little did I know that a sedate evening was not in Life’s plan.

Whilst in the bar we got chatting to a lovely couple. Before we knew it we were caught in a round, and shots were being ordered!

By the time we were thrown out of that bar at 1.30pm, I was in full celebratory mode. Celebrating that a 24 year old girl had told me she liked my ‘The White-stuff’ dress. When your 63 and a 24 year old wants to know where she can buy your dress, it really makes you realise perhaps you’re not as old as you think.

I decided I wanted to go back to McCafferty’s for a night cap. After a few more, I decided it was time to go home. I left RD at the bar whilst I went to the loo, he found me 20 minutes later boogying on down with a group of twenty somethings. I had them all dancing in a line, to set moves. (I am laughing as I am writing this.)

But I had not finished there. Oh no. I then dragged RD into another little bar for just one more.

By the time I got back to the room it’s safe to say I was pissed.

Now I am a little claustrophobic, so pulling dresses over my head is not my favourite thing. But my ‘The White Stuff’ dress only came off that way. No buttons, no zippers, nada. RD reliably informs me that I proceeded to roll around on the bed, with my dress over my head, shouting ‘help!Help!’ Good job RD was with me. It appears after undressing and getting into bed, I snuggled up to him and said ‘Go and get a kebab.’

He politely declined!

Considering I have not drunk like that for many years, my hangover was minuscule.

I woke up the next morning to loads of photos on my phone and I have no idea who took them!

The girl’s still got it!

Moisy