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My husband threw me an epic birthday celebration in isolation and now I don't ever want to have a birthday out of the house. Here's what happened.
He presented me with an itinerary in the morning, with activities and themes on each floor (disclaimer: we don’t live in a mansion lol, it’s a tall but v skinny '60s house, just happens to have three floors). First up was my favourite brunch at ‘Chris on the Hill’s Cafe’.
After, I visited the 'White Rose Spa' for a massage and bath (the cat thought the massage was for her and really enjoyed the twinkly spa music, and started getting scratchy when we tried to push her to one side). There was even cucumber water.
Onto 'TheNameofOurStreet Picturehouse' for a screening of Eighth Grade which I’d wanted to see but he hadn't. He gave an Everyman-style intro and there was popcorn and sweets. He also insisted we couldn't pause the film when I went to loo for a fully authentic experience 
He knows I love an excuse for multiple outfit changes so that was a key part of the day. For evening, I chose a vintage 60s velvet gown I got for a tenner but have no reason to wear (with or without isolation) and a '40s clutch because, well, I miss bags in quarantine.
When I went downstairs, he was in black tie and holding two margaritas. He had transformed the downstairs floor (usually our kitchen/diner) into Studio 33 (my age), complete with a custom-made logo (he’s an art director and graphic designer)...
..., a homemade disco ball (using a tin foil on a record player and a torch duct taped to a mic stand), multicoloured flashing lights (he used flashing LEDs meant for a car, onto which he soldered a 9v battery and covered with tracing paper to act as a diffuser) and...
...a perfectly authentic disco playlist (curated by a friend of his who is a disco expert). There was also dinner and a 70s-inspired cake (the first cake he'd ever baked). I think I rather like quarantine. The End.
