I’m 28 in 2 days. Or possibly tomorrow, since nobody knows when my birthday is. (I was not, contrary to rumour, found in a bin).
27 has defined, “the best of times, the worst of times”. Absolute aceness mixed with arseness. I’ll be glad to see the back of it, though things have been looking up. And yet, to see the back of any year fills me with dread. I sat today in the park near my house and read (Primo Levi- cheerful stuff!) and cursed myself for not appreciating the summer sooner. How many we will see? And etc. But I’ll be in Paris with Robert so shall enjoy that. And have had a lovely few days celebrating our first wedding anniversary. One year already! What the hell. Life is brief and strange.
I’m a ray of sunshine, me.
I feel quite apprehensive about this one, due to my recent freakouts. Is 28 old? Oldish? How was 28 for you?
And I have been writing this blog since I was 20. OH DEAR. This blog is older than some little people I know.
Filed under: being old