Age. It’s only a number. Today’s number is 12180.
That’s the number of days I’ve been alive. It’s about a third of a century. So I’m going out to have a couple of beers tonight at the Black Country Arms in Walsall.
A third of a century. Surely it is as much a valid measure of age as counting in whole years? It may not be “normal” or “conventional” but those who know me will know I’ve been a bit of a statistical outlier for a long time (12180 days so far) and it’s unlikely that significant change will happen in the immediate future.
Besides, there are no cards out there for 33 and a third years!
(Actually, exactly a third of a century was last Sunday. That was my also wedding anniversary. I’m eccentric, not stupid. Putting my third of a century drinks on my wedding anniversary could have been detrimental to my long term health and wellbeing. 12180 is the same number rounded to four significant figures and close enough to the actual moment that I’ll cope.)