Pining for Presents

If I had to come up with one word to describe my life right now, it would be "nothing to report". You should probably take that as read any time I'm in Devon, Grendelian musings notwithstanding.

It's technically true that this weekend I'll be 21 which is, according to certain authorities, the last birthday that matters until 40. The thing is, I've never had a birthday that I enjoyed more than your run-of-the-mill "Let's celebrate because we're here" party. Right now, I'm so deep in rural malaise that I can barely be bothered to go outside, much less paint the town red, or any other colour.

So far this whole 'date of birth' deal is looking to be more hassle than it's worth. At risk of sounding a tad ungrateful, trying to think up present requests is a real pain. I suppose that means I'm either deeply content at heart, or just plain unimaginative.

And then, there's the slim possibility that someone would buy me an MP3 player. On one hand, as I've discussed, that would be col and the gang. But then....

Well, firstly, if we're talking iPod then we're talking hundreds of your pounds sterling., which is more expensive than they need to be. Then, if we go for one of those reasonably-priced models that are called "oPid" or something... I mean. as a die-hard applehead, am I going to have to accuse myself of frontin'? In that situation I make no promises to foreswear wire wool and maybe vinyl paint.

Finally, of course, there's potentiality. What if when I look closer, I don't much like what I find? So long as I don't own one, the iPod can remain as I first saw it: floating free on a white VR background, pristine in its potential to be truly great.

All in all, socks will probably be a relief.

and it just so happened to be the best song in the world