Repudiating the month of January has turned out to be the best idea ever. No stress, no sadness, no birthday!
The weather here is, to my profound surprise, a vast improvement on the Pacific Northwest. Days are short but never stormy; there are stiff winds but only occasional rain.
On what would have been the birthday packages started to arrive. There were email wishes from all manner of friends near and far, and in the days since then slips for more packages keep falling through the mail slot.
At the weekend I picked a treat: we went to the Canal Museum, then walked along the Regent Canal and through the Camden Lock complex, ignoring the crowds and squinting at the outlines of the old buildings. Later we went to Brick Lane and ate Urubeesi Gaata at The Shampan.
This week I have been working relentlessly against various deadlines, building fires in the boat and huddling in front of the crackle of wood and glow of coal, ignoring the cygnets who occasionally tap on the window asking for bread.
I’m thirty-four now, and it feels pretty good.