34 - waist and years in perfect harmony (dammit)

I've popped home to receive birthday congratulations from the Aged Parents (copyright, the Mitfords). It's such a joy to be in the countryside rain. Everything's green, lush and wet. The cat's as pleased to see me, as pleased as any cat can be anyway, and the bantams are hopefully greedy, which equates to love in my world. 

Anyway, thanks to my dear youngest sister Helen, who made me my favourite biscuit cake, with my age picked out in Smarties. Coincidentally, it's her favourite cake too - she swears that's what she'll have for her wedding. Now she needs to persuade someone (and yes, he reads this blog), to POP THE QUESTION. Though perhaps marrying someone who loves biscuit cake this much is too much to ask. 

So, how to review the year in the time remaining before The Wire starts? What achievements do I have to my credit? I've gained several hundred pounds in books, some of which I've read. I've lost several hundred pounds of gelatine, most of which has stayed off. My hair's thinner and my fuse is shorter. I've attained two years' stability as far as work goes, though this may well change in September thanks to a combination of management evilitude and global political/economic stupidity. My fencing is improving and I'm doing a lot of refereeing and child protection stuff, so I'm doing my little bit for society. 

I'm also a lot angrier, which usually manifests itself in sarcasm and despair. Everybody tells me that people get more conservative as they get older. Not me. I get more and more militantly leftwing. Ten years ago I was a wishy-washy liberal. Now I'm a rock-solid Trotskyist with a streak of serious-minded anarchism - tolerance of what we allow to be done to us is gone. I'm also a failed Communist, in that I'm not in a party and do nothing to radically change society. Sure, I do my best to warp peoples' minds (sorry, enlighten people) through education, and I'm feeling my way in the union, but basically I just whine about stuff on my blog or in the pub. Still, I'm purer than the PFJ. Splitters!

Ah yes, the blog. Thanks to all of you. It's been going since November and I'm slowly gaining a readership. I love the fact that we often disagree (I'm looking at you on politics, Ewarwoowar), are from all over the place (Merciless, Intelliwench, The Quiet Life, SCW, The Deer Friend and lots of others) and now don't all see each other on a daily basis. You ignore my lefty rants and abuse my haircuts and taste in music and I love it. I'm no stylist, unlike lovely Cynical Ben, who can really write, but you're performing a valuable service. If I didn't unload on you, my office mates would have torn out my tongue long ago. I've found lots of people to respect and like on the web, such as all my fellow bloggers and superstars like Bad Science and Pharyngula, who remind me that there are other troublemaking lefties around who don't spend their time building rockets and planning to start again on some other planet (or Norway, which is my ideal). 

What else? I've read a lot of books, and bought a lot more, often recommended by you. For a seventh year in succession, I haven't managed to find a flat to live in, partly because the thought of buying enough shelves for books and records would bankrupt me, and partly because I'm a lazy man. I haven't been to Wales or Ireland enough this year, and have certainly spent too much time in the Black Country, though Dan has organised some brilliant walks (without the Map Twats, life would be utterly featureless, despite their perpetual harassment). I've religiously visited the upei.ca site every week in the hope that one of their English department teachers has a terrible accident (after reading all 8 volumes of Anne of Green Gables, and I've thrilled to the weekly sight of Stoke City slaying the pretty boys of the Premiership. It's been a weird sensation to be on the winning side in something. It's never happened to me in sport (playing or supporting) and definitely not in politics. I mourned Labour's wins under Blair because it covered the loss of all socialist ideals. 

So am I happy, all things considered? Yes. I'm fitter, better-read, and surrounded by great colleagues and brilliant friends, and unlike many, there's an overlap. I've almost done a PGCE and need to get on with some proper research. I'm still single (restrain your shock), but that enables me to get a lot more reading done and lo-fi listened to. 

Aims for the next year? Teach less, teach better. Move out. Pun more. Read more. Be funnier. Get thinner. Get out on my bike again, as Neal's restored it for my birthday - what a brilliant present. Write letters. See my distant friends more often. Stop whipping my arm back with every attack - people see it coming and referees don't like it. Cook more cool stuff. Remember birthdays, anniversaries and peoples' names. Lighten up. Perfect my ironing technique. Resemble David Mitchell less. Conduct ceaseless war on apostrophe abuse and superfluous wordage ('still continuing'? - deserves kneecapping). Add more heroes to my pantheon of Arthur Dent and Marvin the Paranoid Android. Say what I think. Devise an anti-SUV weapon. Upset more Christians and 'alternative' therapy adherents. Listen to the wind and merge with some waves. Climb every mountain, etc. etc. etc. 

Oh. It is my birthday now. Happy birthday to me.