Sunday, June 2, 2013

My earliest memory of partying is probably Christmas at my grandparents house. I was three years old and had to sit at the "kids" table, dining on a pre-cut, smaller version of the elaborate meal enjoyed by my tipsy parents. 
As I got older, my idea of celebration moved away from family gatherings and became more self-centered and therefore more desirable. On the 21st of January I would get a whole day dedicated to my birth, usually accompanied by a group of school friends coming over to play pass-the-parcel and eat animal-shaped chocolate cake, frosted with pink icing and motherly love. 
It wasn't until I was 16 that I realised that there needn't be a special occasion for celebration; all one needs to party is some friends, music, and, in the case of your average Australian teenager, a goon sack. 
This weekend was a culmination of all the above; there was family, there was an occasion, there was cake, and there was booze... 

It was my beautiful cousin Nandi's 21st birthday party. 
And it was brilliant.

I won't go on and on with words, but let's just say it was a night of sharing conversation, kisses, and a batch of extra special brownies...

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