I like Bloo

Well yes, I’m 30 now. 30 and a day. That makes me “Thirty-something”. It doesn’t feel much different, but it never does. And getting through the weekend was the bigger deal this last week. Four days of strain at the EPT, which turned out to be more bearable than the first thought.

I have a bad record with birthdays. Something tends to go wrong, either with me or other people playing a direct part. So I try not to put any significance into them. Get through it - an ordinary day. And if I can divert attention away from me then so much the better.

I do this last thing a lot. I don’t like attention. Perhaps I do things to get attention, but then I step aside rather than watch directly. Like turning up as a ghost at your own funeral. I don’t want to be around but it’s hard to say ‘piss off’ to curiosity. Instead I wait for it to turn up and then tell it to bugger off. It’s not an attractive quality and it leads to under-valuing yourself. But if it’s your nature then there’s not much you can do.

So yes, my birthday. This one went well. Cards, presents, things to do, with the person I wanted it to be with. Football, curry, home. In between were those special gifts that feel a bit more than just that. Special things. The ones that remind you that your brain is only tricking you into thinking you’re an island and that you should keep your distance to protect home shores. But it turns out open borders are much better.

Anyway, not much of a post but a birthday one nonetheless, and with underlying chipperness. They’ll be more adventures in Tooting Bec to come. I hope they’re still adventures now I’m a little older.