October - Turning 30

October, my favourite month of the year—though I might be biased. It’s not just the red leaves lining the streets, the golden afternoon light, or the baking I dive back into. October is my birthday month. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love my birthday. There’s a childlike excitement about it: an excuse to treat myself, soak up love, and celebrate for a day or maybe a whole weekend.

This year, it was a very special birthday. My 30th. Lots of people, some with concern on their face, asked me beforehand how I felt about turning 30. “Absolutely great” I said. And I meant it. For me, 30 wasn’t getting “old” - I still feel pretty young - or boring. I felt excited about welcoming this new decade. When I look back at the last ten years, I feel like an improved version of my 20 year old self.

I feel wiser and more self-aware, I don’t compare myself with others as much anymore, I’m healthier and fitter. I also still feel young, spontaneous, not really like an adult, only when necessary.

If life continues this way, then I can’t wait for it!

The last few years I often spent my birthday away on holiday. I always enjoyed that. Eating my way through the local restaurants of where ever we were, champagne in our hotel room, maybe a spa treatment.

But this year, for my 30th I wanted to be in London. And I wanted to celebrate. My actual birthday was on a Saturday, so that was handy. Lots of people in the UK don’t mind having an early birthday party. As in a few days maybe even a week before their actual birthday. But as a true German, I know that it brings misfortune and I would never do such a thing.

I decided to celebrate in our local Pub. And over few late nights had Harry design my digital invitation. I sent it out to family and friends in Germany and London. Most of them said they’d come.

The weeks leading up to my birthday were filled with excitement that reminded me of being a child, and planning. I thought about food and drinks and birthday cakes. I had also invited everyone from Germany for brunch at our house. So I ordered croissants and coffee, cheese and prosecco. Filled the fridge and was bouncing up and down.

The Thursday before my birthday, I finished work early and began preparing. I was whipping up hummus and cooking soup until Johanna knocked on my door. She’d come straight from the airport and would stay at ours for the weekend. Hugs and screeching and pure happiness. After she had settled in, we left to meet two other German friends who had arrived on the same flight for dinner. We enjoyed pasta but mostly being together. It felt like we had just seen each other last week, when really it had been months.

I had to leave the girls to pick up my sister Pauline from Liverpool Street. I was late and she was waiting for me by the platform, waving as she saw me hurrying along. More hugs. A tired life update on the train back home. This was already the best idea I had in ages.

The next morning I made a big pot of porridge to feed the growing number of people in our house. Whilst Harry and Johanna worked away in the office upstairs, Pauline and I continued the preparations. We were talking and baking and cooking and enjoying being together. Just the two of us. Moments we don’t have enough of anymore. We walked and I showed her my new park, my new favourite coffee shop, the little shop in the village.

Then I took off again. This time to pick up my parents. They assured me, I won’t have to meet them at the airport, as they had done this journey before and felt confident they would find their way into London. I met them at London Bridge station. More hugs. And excitement! We jumped on a bus to meet Harry, Johanna, Pauline and two other friends (who had been on the same flight as my parents) for lunch. Eight people sharing Indian food and stories and laughter. My heart already felt so full. I was wondering how I would cope the next day. Would my heart just burst?

Everyone was tired that night and we decided to go to bed early. I was sure I was going to fall asleep right away. But I hadn’t considered my overthinking mind. Thoughts racing, heart pumping. I drifted in and out of sleep, glad when it was time to get up. At least my eyes weren’t as puffy as I thought they might be. My mum and sister and Johanna helped me to set up brunch. Harry went to the café to pick up pastries and bread. And then everyone who made the trip over from Germany knocked on our door. It was unusual to see everyone in London. I felt so grateful and happy and I was sure my heart was close to exploding now.

I marvelled at the sight of everyone together in London. My new home. Then I leaned in and enjoyed. Chatted, drank prosecco, ate croissants, listened to their stories.

By the early afternoon everyone had left. I felt relaxed. And grateful for a little rest. I took a nap, reenergised, shared some birthday cake. As soon as it was time to get ready for the party, I was nervous again. Johanna, Harry and I walked down to the pub carrying the two massive ballons we had blown up earlier. A three and a zero. We were lucky we were a bit early. The pub hadn’t set up the tables quite the way I wanted and there was no music box in the room. After I had spent months curating the perfect playlist, I was disappointed. After some back and forth, Harry jumped on a bike to get the tiny box from our house. As soon as he arrived, the pub manager magically came up to the room with a big box in his hands. Everything was good again.

As expected the Germans were on time. I felt calmer now, as I had seem all earlier. A bit later all my English friends dripped in. Once most of them had arrived and I have had a few glasses of wine I felt ready to hold a little speach. I hadn’t really prepared anything. Just had thoughts that I wanted to say out loud. About how grateful I was for all the love of mine and Harry’s family, for the effort everyone made coming over from Germany, for accepting a German girl in their English friend groups. I didn’t get much out. As soon as I had turned down the music and stood their, clinking my glass, the emotions took the better of me. Tears in my eyes I managed a “Thank you” and explained where everyone would find plates for the snacks that had just been brought to the tables. Someone shouted “We love you” and they started singing happy birthday. I was relaxed, not ashamed. Knowing everyone here was here for a reason.

Then I had the best evening of the year. I chatted to everyone. Introduced friends to other friends, danced, ate more cake. I couldn’t have been happier.

When we had to leave the pub, I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want the night to end. But I was also sure: If this is how my 30s begin, I can’t wait to see what’s next.