today is my birthday (yes, you bastard, you forgot. no, it's too late to pretend you didn't now)
i have long hated birthdays, regarding them with the same jaundiced eye as New Year's Eve - that is, as an occasion specifically invented to make you feel bad that you are not more popular and fun. and with both, the additional reminder that you have one less year in which to become popular and fun.
last year on my birthday, i took two exams and then stayed in and watched sex and the city because i was going to take two more exams. (ok, i chose to take the exams and i had a big party the week before, and my friends gave me an Xbox but still... allow my self-indulgent wallowing).
tonight, to celebrate reaching the grand old age of 22, i will be visiting one of Yorkshire's most upsetting tinpot towns, Selby. "Oh," said one of the other trainees, 'it has a club, you know. Two clubs." I will probably be the oldest person there.
nevertheless, i am not getting my hopes up for it becoming my ideal night out - a mad rave with free champagne and music from 1997 where i meet my future husband. but i suppose there's a reasonable chance of at least one of those three coming through for me.
in other, less blatantly self-pitying news, only three weeks of exile left. And those three weeks will be spent writing great local newspaper headlines (one that nearly got in: "Family meet death-quiz team"; one that actually got in: "pair face quiz on dismembered girl") and hopefully keeping up our team's three-week reign as champions of the Pub Quiz.