A good day

I didn't sleep very well as I said goodbye to being 37. However, as sleep therapist P had let me have a lie-in till nine ("everyone deserves a treat"), I didn't feel as bad as I would have otherwise.

My birthday cards have a stylish theme, as though they were chosen to sit together. They are beautiful, some I'd like to frame, but won't, as I never get round to doing such things.

S took the day off to spend it with me. He treated me to a massage (the woman was very good and I left feeling relaxed, not scratchy); then we had lunch where the food, served by Frenchmen, was delicious. I had to undo the belt on my dress. The place, situated in a beautiful part of London, was full of actors and people who lunch for a living.

I'm pleasantly tired – glad it is Friday – looking forward to seeing my parents later. It's been a mellow day, just what I need. I didn't sleep much last night... I cried a lot. An awful lot. I think it was the adrenaline of waiting for the sleep appointment, the catharsis of the actual appointment, and then feeling utterly depleted during kung fu (I was ridiculously badly coordinated). I cried as soon as the class ended (in the loo). And when when I got home, where it was quiet and empty, M, my rabbit, bounded over and followed me around, as she always does if I'm upset. That made me cry even more.

Anyway, 38 looks good so far. I am tentative, as I am in the middle of so many cloudy things. But on the whole, like today's weather, it's sunny.