Being 28

Being 28 feels no different to being 27, really. Not that I thought it would do.

The beer-belly my brother promised would arrive at 25 still hasn't materialised, but then again I don't drink beer, and I do lots of running about waving swords, which I think holds it at bay. That and living on nervous energy and caffiene.

This coming year's going to be a good one. Much working for myself and general career-based merriment will follow, I'm sure.

Oh, and thanks to anyone who gave me a present or a card. They were much appreciated.