I feel more inclined to celebrate my birthday this year than I did last year - even though last year was the big three-oh. I think there was a bit too much pressure on it last year - “It’s your thirtieth so it has to be a biggie” - whereas this year I’m more relaxed about it. Plus I don’t have the spectre of moving into a new decade of numbers hanging over me like a psychological sword of Damacles. Plus I haven’t got to think about moving soon, or being in a job I hate, or having to negotiate my arse off to get some time off work to actually celebrate, or any of the other shitments we were dealing with this time a year ago. So I think this one should be a good one. So much so that it’s inspired me to write poetry:
“Thirty was dirty, flirty and squirty
But thirty-one will be even more fun”
RC 9-1-15
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