10,957 days and 11 eleven hours


Technically I had an extra 11 hours of being 29. The UK has an eleven hour time lag behind Australia. So being born at 6am - thirty years ago today - in Australia means I was able to milk my twenties for those precious few hours more, before the British clock ticked over to midnight.

Doesn't really bother me though. Ever since I turned 28 I've been mentally rounding off my age to the nearest year. When I get into my fifties I'll probably be rounding off to the nearest decade. Age is just a number. If I was Olmec living in the ancient Mayan civilisation I'd be 42 already; if I lived on Venus I'd almost be 19; and if I was a dog I'd barely be four years old. But I'm not Olmec or Venusian and I definitely ain't a bitch.

Although...I am presently surrounded by bitches. Three bitches. I'm currently working in Jersey - one of the islands in the English channel. House sitting and dog sitting. I'll be here for a couple of weeks, then heading back to the UK to celebrate my 30th Anniversary of birth with a night on the town.

All bitches need to bring photo ID.