That’s how old I am today. Or young. Either way, just a number.
2014 is my sabbatical year.
I started 2014 by deleting my twitter.
I’ve read 43 books since the start of the year. Some old favourites. Some new discoveries. Some awful pap. I’m not picky.
I’m taking sewing lessons, re-acquiring a skill my mum insisted I develop when I was a teenager.
Thing is getting used to having me around. We dress up in superhero capes and she treats me to tea and scones.
She tells me stories. Fascinating stories.
We dance to the B-52s and Queen and Beyonce.
Vinod takes a packed lunch to work. I make his lunch. Mix almost passed out from shock when I told her.
I’m hiding from everyone I know. Well, everyone other than the two and four I live with. If you ask me why I won’t be able to explain. I have nothing to say.
Some things are better left unsaid.
This is my life in my fortieth year.
Maybe this is my mid-life crisis.
It’s turning out to be quite a blast.