Last time I wrote one of these it was 10 years ago, in a land far far away. It was a far more pretentious affair than this will be.
My beard has turned almost entirely grey since then and my hairline continues its relentless retreat towards the back of my head.
When joking with a friend recently about an upcoming plan, I said “Don’t worry, just another mid-life crisis”, he laughed, “Mid-life? try 3/4!”.
Boy did that smart.
Away from reflective surfaces, the number seems huge, unwieldy and frankly absurd, my feet are just as itchy and my mind craves the new as much as it did decades ago.
A reflected glimpse caught in a window pane, or the look in a twenty-somethings eye as we converse, however, is sobering.
In conventional terms, I (still) don’t have much to show for this many turns around the sun.
Honestly, I’m ok with that, it’s only stuff.
Choices were made.
I don’t have any advice for my younger self, it would be a futile exercise anyway, he wouldn’t listen.
In the cold light of another birthday morning all I can offer to anyone is this:
Drink more water, read more books.