Here I am, up with the larks to celebrate the demise of my twenties with a bowl of muesli and a quick pootle through my email, and what do I find? My email has been disabled by an "internal server error". Surely this is not a metaphor for my encroaching old age? Whatever it is, it is bally annoying, for I am certain that my inbox is heavy laden with e-pistles from friends, relatives, publishers, and dethroned Nigerian princes offering to syphon three billion dollars through my bank account.
Anyway, on this solemn occasion of embarking upon my fourth decade, I'd like to thank my Ma and Pa, without whom none of this would have been possible, God, for creating beagles, beagles, for being beagles, Lindt, who sustained me through many a dark hour, and my twenties, which, apart from occasional internal server errors and the fact that all but seven months of 'em were eked out under the Howard government, were as foxtrottingly fine as twenties should be.