It is that time of the year. The time when I celebrate being a day older than I was the day before and when I am reminded of how fortunate I am to have such a lovely family and so many treasured friends. Having been away so much in the last few weeks, we had decided we were not going to go very far but that we’d spend time with Edward and Amy. It seems ages since we’d seen them both.

On Friday afternoon we checked into our favourite Sofitel St James in Waterloo Place, where Regent Street meets Pall Mall. The arrangement on the reception desk was such a vibrant blast of colour against that dark green background, I took a photo for my “colour theory” teaching collection.

On Friday evening, we joined Edward and Amy at The Pem , a favourite of theirs but a new restaurant for us. The design of the restaurant and the level of service are such that even though we were by no means alone in the room, it felt as though we had the place to ourselves. Perfect for conversation and for feeling utterly spoiled.

Blue skies greeted us on Saturday morning, when we’d decided to take it slowly and spend a couple of hours pottering about Jermyn Street and Piccadilly.

We’d noticed a “road closure” sign on Regent Street, for “seasonal works” which I had interpreted as “putting up Christmas decorations”. They’d already done that on Jermyn Street however, with the beautiful angel figures and swirling ribbons already up there, ready for the big light up next month.

In places like this I enjoy noticing plaques and small details. Having been thinking about colour theory yesterday afternoon, I found it interesting to see that Sir Isaac Newton, responsible for our understanding of colour, lived just here in Jermyn Street too.

Though our minds were more focused on breakfast right then.

Thankfully, we were only a step away from a favourite: 45 Jermyn Street where one of us enjoyed a full English and the other a bowl of yoghurt, granola and fruit. I’ll leave you to guess who had what (and add that I didn’t take this photo!)

I didn’t take this one either, but the sign on the door brought a smile to both our faces.

Comfortable though we were sitting people watching (and it’s really good people watching here, I can say!) it was time to move on. We wandered through the Piccadilly Arcade onto Piccadilly and popped into Fortnum’s, crossing the street corner where we’d witnessed a nasty accident in June 2013 whilst with our sweet Californian friends Ellis and Mary. We always stop and issue “be careful” warnings before stepping off the pavement as a result (and think of our friends, too!)

But on a Saturday morning, Fortnum’s is a bit of a madhouse, so having got what we wanted, we didn’t linger but headed straight for Hatchards bookshop, where I went straight for the craft books on the top floor whilst my Hero browsed the history section on ground.

I’m always interested to see what’s new and trending, especially so shortly after spending time with some of the finest craftswomen in the country. My first thought is “what’s with Japanese Knitting?” I need to ask my knitting guru friend - and what makes it different from any other kind of knitting, anyway?

Whilst in the lift, I noted this plaque on the wall - yes, in the lift, of all places! Who knew that the RHS had been founded here? Well, not in the bookshop lift of course, but on this site.

From Hatchards it’s only a step or two to Waterstones, where we decided to spend a while browsing. Once again, we split up and went our separate ways. why is the craft section always on the top floor though?

One thing was immediately apparent, the “new wood culture” is still going strong and I spent a while looking through these shelves, recognising a couple of titles from my own shelf, bought following my first attempts at spoon carving earlier in the year.

But look, Japanese knitting again! I need to find out more.

There have been quite a few “modern calligraphy” books published recently and I’ve usually quickly dismissed them as “puff”. Why do so many of them contain so many “practice pages”? (I can guess…) If I buy a lovely book, the last thing I want to do is to write in it, especially “practice”, which in my world means “making a mess”. Anyway, I felt this one was a notch above those aimed at the felt-tip-pen brigade and spent a while deciding that no, I didn’t need it, though I did follow the author on IG because her work is both attractive and skilful.

Had I not had to carry any purchase with me for the rest of the day, this one might have found its way onto my shelf. It contained some good, clear diagrams and fresh ideas about a craft I always feel I should explore further. My other pet peeve about craft books though: why are so many of them “project based”? I’d much prefer a good technique based book, but then perhaps I’m in the minority!

With this amusing quotation from Cranford in my mind, I found my Hero again and we set off for the bus stop together. (I know, romantic, isn’t it - especially when we get our bus passes out!!)

We caught the 38 from the stop opposite Waterstones to Tottenham Court Road, from where we made our first journey on the new Elizabeth Line.

We resurfaced at Canary Wharf, where the station architecture is stunning.

Though actually, looking in the other direction, it has plenty of competition from some longer standing examples too.

We changed onto a DLR train at the adjacent West India Quay station, destination Pudding Mill Lane.

Not a Pudding Mill in sight, however. In fact, there appeared to be nothing much there at all.

Until we turned the corner, that is. This is the site of the ABBA Voyage Arena, purpose built for the show we were looking forward to seeing! Yes, we were early!

The usual security procedures completed, we had plenty of time for a beer and a look around as the other 2998 people in the audience arrived.

When the doors opened, we took our seats. We had a fabulous view from block H, having dismissed the idea of booking spots in the standing (dancing) area in favour of a comfy pair of seats!

That standing area filled up pretty tightly as the minutes passed and we spotted a couple of the “dancing pods” just behind us as well.

Once the show began, photos were prohibited and a large number of staff members were actively watching the whole audience to enforce that rule too. It’s tricky to offer a flavour of the show, then, except to say that it was absolutely amazing! Within five minutes I had totally forgotten I wasn’t watching the real people, so convincing were the “ABBAtars”. There’s a trailer for the show here

a review here and a bit of an insight to how it was created here

We left with those fabulous tunes going around in our heads, having loved every minute!

A-maz-ing! But it had been a long time since breakfast and we hadn’t had any lunch! A good job we were meeting Edward for supper.

Amy had long standing plans to celebrate a friend’s birthday so Edward had booked a table at one of their favourite local restaurants in Islington, Kipferl. The Austrian menu was right up our street and though our main course of Geschnetzeltes wasn’t that photogenic, our shared dessert of Kaiserschmarrn certainly was!

Bus passes in hand, we waited for the 38, wishing Edward goodnight and thinking he was on his way home. That was not quite the case, as we were to discover later.

Sunday morning wasn’t quite the same sunny outlook as the previous day, but being ushered to the car by an umbrella -carrying bellhop was an unlooked for luxury as we set out for home, via breakfast in Islington this morning.

Driving through Piccadilly Circus, it was hard to imagine it was only just past 10am! It felt like early evening, so dark and dreary was it.

The love and sunshine was there in abundance on Edward and Amy’s kitchen table though - the delicious Austrian cheesecake having been brought back from Kipferl late last night as we waited for the bus! How sweet was that?

Presents and cards too!

Once home safely, I found more cards, presents and flowers - so many lovely surprises just kept coming.

Such a wonderful weekend and a birthday filled with so many good things to cherish and feel thankful for, never forgetting that the best things in life are not things at all.