Thursday, August 16, 2012

This is the face of thirty-seven

Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.
@ Grasshopper's Feast
in Melbourne
Well, today I'm thirty-seven.

What can I say?

'Thank you' seems most fitting: for family, health, career, and a few scraps of civilisation.

As a suggestive contrast, here's a diary entry from George Orwell, on his thirty-seventh birthday, on 25th June, 1940:
Last night an air raid warning about 1a.m. It was a false alarm as regards London, but evidently there was a real raid somewhere. We got up and dressed, but did not go to the shelter. This is what everyone did, i.e. got up and then simply stood about talking, which seems very foolish. But it seems natural to get up when one hears the siren, and then in the absence of gunfire or other excitement one is ashamed to go to the shelter.


Terry said...

Happy Birthday Day

Damon Young said...

Thanks, mate. I like 37--thanks for warming the seat for me!