don’t panic…
And it’s rolled around again – birthday time! Not that there’s anything in particular to panic about; the dreaded tax bill is sorted, the fridge is stocked, all the radiators have been bled and even my bank account switch has gone off completely without incident, but it wouldn’t be right to turn 42 without at least one Douglas Adams reference. Readers will be glad to know that unlike most people who insert these into everyday conversation, I’m happy to stop at one.
A few random facts as is my habit – molybdenum – just rolls off the tongue, I know – has the atomic number 42 and is coincidentally the 42nd most common element in the universe too (it’s also used to fertilise cauliflowers), Cell 42 on Alcatraz Island was once home to ‘Birdman’ Robert Stroud, who was transferred to The Rock in 1942 (after murdering a guard he then did 42 years in solitary, albeit in different prisons). And 42 is also the name of Buzz Lightyear‘s spaceship – yay! On far thinner ice, it is designated the middle year of the ‘early forties’ with forty three being the last before reaching the ‘mid forties’, a theory I include because a similar one was related to me by a friend whilst I was in my ‘early thirties’ and not because (unlike the person who told me) I give a rats arse about having another year on the clock now any more than I did then, and it’s probably fair to say that the only thing I actually learned from the conversation is that some people have far too much free time.
A peaceful, low-effort day has always been the plan, and not unsurprisingly I started as I meant to go on – a brief burst of activity is planned later to knock up carbonara and butterscotch angel delight before the last episode of Winterwatch and that’s resolutely it. I have already had an early present by way of Frightfest as not only was the line up for Glasgow next month announced yesterday, the passes went on sale this very morning and I was relieved in the extreme (after three hours of trying) to successfully book my chosen, holy-grail seat in Row F – yay! I’m all too aware makes me sound like the most tedious and insufferable knob-end on the planet but when you’re barely five foot three with bad eyesight and plan to spend nigh on two solid days (unless you’re at London FF where it’s four and a half) in a cinema seat, believe me when I say that Quality Of View becomes as crucial to the weekend as the continued availability of scotch pies and sugar free Irn Bru in the big Tesco round the corner from the GFT.
An upcoming weekend away is on the cards by way of belated celebration and a full report (including haggis review) will follow, but for now it’s suffice to say that bar a little bit of tomorrow I will not be available in Scarborough until Monday evening and the work phone will not be accompanying me, so emails only, please! There’s no hurry; even London’s not for a couple of weeks and meanwhile the nights are getting lighter, Spring will be with us in no time. Again – don’t panic…
For now though, it’s back to the couch with a box of violet creams and Orange Is The New Black. Happy Birthday to me!
More soon…
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