Zolar
Well, I scarcely know what's hit me recently. I've been ramping it up to 11 at work to hit some deadlines, and after hitting them I found myself unexpectedly with a bit of TOIL on my hands. Instead of lying in bed or staring at cows (both admittedly attractive options) I found myself rushing off to London instead for an emergency short-term holiday. That was a whirlwind of activity that I'm still digesting. I variously horrified people in Chinatown with my cold-resistance antics, had a wife-rampage mini on Regent Street in Japanese Wife Wife Resurrection Turbo (cripes that didn't go well), attempted to frighten the residents of Belgravia and Chelsea (and send their house prices tumbling) by being a beardy Welsh ruffian who hangs about on their streets (but found myself quite thoroughly ignored), and a host of other wacky adventures that I'll get around to telling soon, as well as my account of my antics in Amsterdam which I've promised but still not delivered.
The thirties me is really asserting his personality. It seems that the transition from my twenties wasn't quite as seamless as I thought. There really is a different person walking away now, a person who isn't content to let it all pass by for the sake of a quiet life. This is a person who wants to be right there in the thick of it, despite the grime, despite the crime. I'm frightened. I'm frightened of what I'm going to do next. This is really my fish fingers and custard moment. Let's see where tomorrow takes me.
The thirties me is really asserting his personality. It seems that the transition from my twenties wasn't quite as seamless as I thought. There really is a different person walking away now, a person who isn't content to let it all pass by for the sake of a quiet life. This is a person who wants to be right there in the thick of it, despite the grime, despite the crime. I'm frightened. I'm frightened of what I'm going to do next. This is really my fish fingers and custard moment. Let's see where tomorrow takes me.