Well, despite the lamentations of Valentine's Day and society's general reminder that to be single is to be some kind of aberration, my birthday was surprisingly well-supported. (This was possibly helped by the fact I celebrated it twice.)Aptly, Nick Cave even made an appearance on the second night of celebrations, at my absolute favourite restaurant in London. I couldn't work up the nerve to thank him for the time he was so kind to me when, as a slightly gothic 16 year old I approached him on the streets of my hometown. 'Excuse me!' I said, and he turned around with characteristic purposefulness. 'Um...are you Nick Cave?' I twittered. 'Yep.' he said. I proceeded to lecture him about Wim Wenders films (cringe) until he actually wrote my name in the book he was reading and gave me free tickets to his concert. I still wonder if he ever opens that book and wonders why on earth my name is in it.
Since he was also present at the Hitlergate debacle, I decided to leave Mr Cave and his enchilada in peace - but I was cowardly enough to snap a paparazzi shot with my phone.
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