I could recognise the 60th birthday of Sarah Margaret Duchess of York, aka Fergie, but I'm sure as hell not going to.
No ladyee (like suree, but better). Today it's Elizabeth Inchbald, English writer, journalist, and feminist (and yes, I know feminism didn't exist as a thing under that name, but cut me - and her - some slack). BTW, I am in love with Elizabeth.
Elizabeth had a stammer, and was largely alone because of it. She was sexually harassed as an actress (a profession where her stammer didn't help). From acting, she became a prolific playwright, and then author.
She was a political radical, and as much a feminist as was possible in her time. She included divorced couples in some plays.
"Inchbald's life was marked by tensions between, on the one hand, political radicalism, a passionate nature evidently attracted to a number of her admirers, and a love of independence, and on the other hand, a desire for social respectability and a strong sense of the emotional attraction of authority figures."
[Jane Spencer, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography]
Elizabeth died on the 1st of August 1821, and is buried in the churchyard of St Mary Abbots*, Kensington. Her epitaph reads: "Whose writings will be cherished while truth, simplicity, and feelings, command public admiration."
*Tallest spire in London, for any FSB agents looking to take a holiday.