[Written on the PDA this afternoon]

I’m a daft bastard and have inadvertantly trapped myself on a platform at Wimbledon station for half an hour.  Thank god for modern technology, eh?

It’s been six years since dodgyandcors and incursus got married.  That’s really gone and stuck in my head, because it’s reminded me of two other anniversaries that are coming up in the next couple of weeks.  On Wednesday, it’ll be six years since a close friend of the family died, completely unexpectedly.  That was one hell of a shock.  And the later in the month, it’ll be six years since Ellie dumped me, and that was horrible in the way that only that first binning can be.  And all that’s going through my head is “It can’t be that fucking long, can it?”

Apparently, it can.

But thank fuck for six year perspective, eh?  I look back, and I almost don’t recognise my 21 year old self.  Almost.  And no, I don’t wish I could go back and give myself any advice, although a slap isn’t out of the question.  And, of course, in six years time I’ll be saying that about my 27 year old self, but that’s not a shock.

I’m really not sure where I’m going with this.  It just doesn’t seem like six years since I spent my working week in that server room in Kiln Lane, and lived in a poky wee bedroom at my parents place.  It doesn’t seem like six years since my driving ambition was a job in Edinburgh.  Doesn’t seem like six years since…  I could go on.  I don’t know, maybe it’s not really a shock that this time of that year imprinted so strongly on me – it was one hell of an emotional switchback, after all.

But jesus, six years, and look at all the shit I’ve crammed into it, and it’s still not half enough.  And part of me wants to hear that the next six years can be a little calmer, that maybe I can go a few years without something happening in my life to shock, confuse and generally bother me, because it feels like eighteen months of relative calm is the most I’ve managed since I left school, and another part of me says “Don’t be bloody stupid – look at the amount you’ve learned, and there’s more to come!”

Ah, hell, I don’t know what I’m thinking, but my train’s due any minute, and my good christ, six bloody years?  Could we make time pass a little less quickly, please?  I’d like to get more stuff done.