Waypost.

I wonder where the term milestone came from. It's always being bandied around, job promotion? Milestone. Bought a kitten? Milestone. Found a tenner on the pavement? Milestone, naturally.

My mother turned 50 last week. Apparent milestone. Despite being something one cannot avoid, for aging is inevitable, I'll relax my opinion and go with this birthday being an infamous milestone.

The woman's a legend. She might not be Helen of Troy, but I'd swim a few laps for her.

Put on a shindig for her & invited 60 close chums, it was an absolute blast; top notch spread, more alcohol than you could shake a stick at and the banter as buoyant as the garishly pink helium filled '5' and '0' balloons I'd battled to hold onto in the wind.

Being the offspring of fables I suprised her with a few tricks.

Afternoon tea at The Hilton,

Trip to Rome

& a little treat from Jo Malone

Three amusing things that happened regarding these gifts:

1. Someone took a bottle of plonk emblazoned with 'Anna's 50th, vintage year' (complete with images of her) home with them. Vinegar would taste better I expect.

2. The first pot of tea Mother was presented with at the Hilton had no teabag in it. 

3. The Pope is on holiday when we zip to Rome.