Today, I’m the grand old age of 33.
I like it, it has a pleasing symmetry. I’m not sure about how I’ll feel in 11 years time when I hit 44, so don’t hold me to it.
It’s been a lovely day, starting with breakfast in bed with presents and cards, a nap in the middle, and ending with an early night. I’m saving the celebrations for Friday night. It’s not a sign of getting old, honest, but of being sensible.
And possibly, impending middle age?