23

I don't know if I ever mentioned this here before, but around the end of school and the end of university, I was convinced that the number 23 was following me around. Several significant dates in my life added up in some way to 23, I had locker number 23 in the Purdie building, I found one morning that someone had stuck a "23p" label to my doorframe, and so on. Yes, exactly like that film, so mentioning this would probably have had a greater impact if I'd mentioned it years ago. I was shocked enough to discover that that was what it was about yesterday. And now I am 23, so either it's going to be very good or utterly terrible.

As it happens, today I was honoured with the entirely new experience of receiving absolutely no presents on my birthday. Work was hectic (and because of the wonder of the Internet, still continues to be hectic, seeing as I'm sitting on the sofa with the laptop and debugging things from home) because catastrophic faults in the system always emerge 24 hours before we send it off to the client, and the weather outside was drearier than Scotland has ever managed, so it was quite hilariously gloomy all round. Still, let's look on the bright side - tomorrow I'll have a six-hour flight, followed by a cocktail party for the over 80s the next day, then a six-hour drive through a featureless barren desert to get to Whitney's parents' house.

Happy birthday, sleigh82. Happy birthday, Glenn Barry from Kamelot. Happy birthday, Mrs Hill who was my teacher in fifth year of primary school. Happy birthday, me.