As of this
week I'm a whole year older - now I'm 26 years old. Not
too bad if you're fifty, over the hill if you're twenty.
I do my best to forget, but there's some kind of clock
inside me which keeps insisting on reminding me. Every
year the voices of responsibility and respectability get
louder, whilst those of rebellion and selfishness get
quieter. Well I'll keep doing what I do every year, and
ignore the lot of them and do whatever it is I think I
should be doing.
K called and sang both Las
Mañanitas and Happy Birthday which I
thought was very clever of her. I have such trouble
remembering the lyrics of songs that I suspect even Happy
Birthday would be a bit of struggle for me. It was
a quiet birthday, with the only real drinking going on at
lunchtime. Hardly a piss-up, but then I'm not inclined to
celebrate anything until I'm back in Mexico again.
There was an earthquake in
Mexico last week. When K told me I was really worried,
and she told me she had been scared, but it was OK. About
nineteen people died, mostly in Puebla. I was glad it
wasn't something far worse. I've thought over and over of
what I'd have done if something had happened to K, and I
really don't know. The thought alone makes me scared to
my bones.
Not too much else to
report this week, save that I still love K lots, and am
missing her a hell of a lot at the moment. Every week I
tell myself that it's another week closer to K, but it
doesn't help when we're 4,000 miles apart. My love to K,
to you the reader, and to the rest of this mixed-up,
muddled-up world.
¡Hasta la proxima vez, mi
diario!
