Somehow I am 60, despite still feeling decades younger in my head (less so in my body).
Those big birthdays are a shock to the system. Generally, I've always hit the decades in the same old way - I've left the country.
At 30, I went to Moreac, Brittany, drank champagne and ate Far Breton with friends, child-less.
At 40, I went to the south coast of Brittany, by this time a mother of four, and saw the same friends!
At 50, I went to a glass fronted house in Dingle, Ireland, with family, by now a mother of five.
At 60, I went to Nice, child-free, with a friend. Funny how circular life is.
You get the gist. Not for me the big parties, the screaming celebrations, the noise and the people; extrovert is not my persona. Actually, I've not minded my big birthdays, not really. They are never as bad as I have been led to believe.
At 30, I had no children.
At 40, I had four,
At 50, I had five.
At 60, they'd all miraculously survived and become adults.
Anyway, I enjoyed all the celebrations, so here's a few photos from the latest in Nice!
Nice has a rather grand old feel to it, from its days as a destination on the Grand Tour. It had a sizeable British population in the early 1800s, lovers of the mild climate; hence, the custom-built Promenade des Anglais, a seaside esplanade. It is compact enough to walk far, gaining a real feel.
Russians were also among the early visitors; hence, the Orthodox Cathedral, largest in Western Europe and a fine building.
It feels rather Italian in places, with wonderful quarters to visit such as Castle Hill, the old city, and the marina. The shimmering sea is a huge plus, as is the proximity to the airport. The market is wonderful - olives, mussels, lavender, soap, nougat, and more. Here's a slideshow of photos ...