By the time I have finished writing this I will be thirty years old. A disturbing thought. When I
was born fashions were garish. There was only three UK TV channels. Taxes and terrorism were the
politics of the day. The more things change... Actually, according to a report published today
(Wednesday), it was not far off being the best of times if you live in Britain. Apparently the
environmental destruction, gridlock on the streets and reality TV outweigh the shoddy state of the
economy, huge collars and punk anarchy.
Anyhoo, at a time like this it is customary to look back on ones life, plan for the future and have
one last fling as a dumb young twenty something. Sort of ending my twenties as they were mostly
spent. Somewhat drunk. This then lets me start my thirties as I expect to go on. Somewhat
So, looking back and forward I can rejoice in my choice of friends and my continuing allegiance
to the good Doctor. Sadly I have to also note my continuing failure to become a professional writer
of anything and possibly take the hint. ... Nah! Who am I kidding. I also lament my total
failure to become an award winning folk musician. I really should have kept practising those
Still, I live where I want to, spend my social hours how I want to and am only a few million shy of
the financial position I wish to be in. So I mustn't grumble.
This then leaves the last fling. This was held last Saturday as a joint event with my fellow
traveller beyond the veil The Psycho Chicken. We booked a room in the pub, something I have
complained about people doing for years, and invited everyone we know. Unfortunately I planned for
an unquenchable thirst and so ate all day to slow me down. I was far too successful at this and so
could barely keep up. Still things went swimmingly. I was embarrassed mightily with gifts and cards.
Toc produced a cake that was so anatomically good I couldn't cut it. I did not get offensively drunk.
All in all a perfect end to my youth.
I can now look forward to the next thirty years which I assume will be like the first thirty in
reverse. Ten, fifteen years of frolics before a gradual collapse into doddering senility.
Next Time - The Fridge Magnet Uprising Of '02