This is going to sound ridiculous, but when I turned thirty, never in my wildest dreams did I actually think that time was going to continue moving after said birthday. Certainly I didn’t think that there would be birthdays after my thirtieth. It seemed so final – such an achievement! So it’s coming as a bit of a shock that this coming Saturday I’m going to turn thirty-one. Here’s an random analogy which might explain the sensation a bit – you climb Everest and you’re terribly proud of yourself and then suddenly you turn around and the mountain’s grown another few thousand feet. And then some nutter with a whip turns out and makes you start climbing. Or maybe it should be that you’re on a sledge going down a steep ravine and you can see the end in sight and the sledge slows down and frankly you’re a bit relieved, but then you’ve got slightly too much momentum and you end up zooming right past the relatively flat bit and down yet another ravine. It’s kind of like that.
Hmm. Anyway – it would seem cheap to direct people towards my wishlist, and god knows I’m not a cheap man. So, obviously, I won’t be doing that… No sirree. I’ll just stand here patiently making knowing looks and whistling to myself… Ho hum…