Another Year Older

I write this at 9.15 AM, with an open window and the Colombo heat only feet away. Why am I up at this ungodly hour when I'm on holiday, I hear you ask.

Well C's gone off to Taiwan on a shoot so I'm left here to mooch around on my own, well as much as a man can be alone in this city, and I'm determined that I squeeze the maximum enjoyment out of the remaining three days of my time here.

I'm also slightly hungover, something I blame entirely on Dominic Sansoni. Again.

I strolled over to the Colombo pub quiz last night and found not many people that I know. So, you know me, quiet and unassuming as ever, I took a pew and began to watch the proceedings quietly. One beer later I found myself in a van being driven by the famous photographer and heading to the DBU. The rest I promise to tell you about in another post.

There are several things I want to get done in the coming days, things that C would probably scowl at if she were here (she scowls a lot, particularly when she's with me for some reason) and it's also, though please keep it quiet, my birthday.

I can't quite believe it, not the "it's my birthday" part, for that seems to happen just about every year these days, but the fact that I've hit the grand old age of forty five. It just doesn't seem right.

Besides I spent about ten months thinking I was actually forty three, until C told me that I'd passed that one last January. That was a major bummer, it's only old people who forget how old they are, so how could it happen to me?

Forty fucking five!!! But I wear trendy clothes and play in bands. I use hair product, though I seem to be getting through less of it each month. I listen to Muse, though am yet to get into Arcade Fire. I've got a phone that does far more than just call and text, though I have to get my kids to explain most of it. I wear Converse (s) and Paul Smith and I know the difference between Superdry clothing and the generic fake retro Japanese things that all the shops are churning out these days.

Yet the fact remains. My passport tells me I'm forty five. My kids refuse to listen to or watch the bands I'm in. I still can't figure out how to use most of the things on my phone and I can do mental arithmetic. I must be forty five.

I guess I should embrace it. I'll be off to meet a cousin for lunch today, then might have some beers this evening. If you want to come feel free to join.