2002-07-26 - 6:11 p.m.

Apologies for maintaining radio silence for the past few days - mixture of jetlag and build-up to tomorrow's birthday have squatted on my free time like a inconvenient and not unsweaty toad. Ah, yes, tomorrow I appear to be turning (hard to believe, I know! You're too kind!) thirty, and as I enter my thirtieth year (OK, OK! Technically my thirty-first! What are you, the pedantry police?!) I can only regret that, as we all know, it's the last year that you can get away with telling people you're in your late twenties. It's just the latest of twenties, I say. Most people are cynical of this view and say a hearty "Bollocks!", to which I reply, "Where's my present, anyway?" The weekend will of course be a time for sober reflection - that, or getting so poodle-faced drunk that my liver has to be replaced by a small monkey especially bred in a lab for the purposes of toxin processing. I have no great thoughts on passing into my third decade (OK! OK! My fourth! Jesus Millhouse Christ, what's WRONG with you people?!), just that it had better top the last one, or heavens to Betsy, there'll be, um, more neurotic whinging in these pages. I thank you all for your continued friendship, and if I make it to Monday, there'll be a full report. May your days be merry and bright, and may all your powdered amphetamines be white.