Ooh, I was digging up drafts and I found this. This one written in late Jan sometime:
The one indulgence I allow myself year after year, is writing the birthday post. (Dig up archives you curious people) And this year, I missed the birthday post! I missed the opportunity to write a deliciously self indulgent post about the discovery of another strand of grey hair. Ah, old age... we really should leave it to the kids.
So, today we were having this conversation at a dinner. And everyone claimed that they had no idea where the last ten years went by. I thought it was strange, for I remember having felt each day giving me gooseflesh as it passed me by. I told them that. They thought it was strange. I am miles away from where I was at 18. Ten years is a long time! I have lived, I have grown, I have learnt. And I can say it with no bitterness.
And yet, they ask me to grow up. I heard that four times last year, one for each quarter perhaps. "Grow up", they said "We are waiting". Why should I?
Maybe they are just jealous.