… as The Beatles never sang.
So anyway, my birthday. After last weeks trip to Las Vegas, I’m driving up to LA this evening, for a nice weekend involving the usual dinners with friends, brunch, dogwalking and relaxing. Oh and maybe some database design for Cassie, you never know.
In terms of gifts, I got a few nice things. My brother sent me some photographs of Marmite and Typhoo teabags, Cassie bought me an awesome new computer monitor amongst other things, and Joan and David got me this cool monogram stamp with which I am in the process of personalizing everything I own. On the way back from Las Vegas, we stopped at an outlet mall (I know, I know – I left them in a jar on the mantelpiece), and I bought myself a rather smart new Coach briefcase. Look at me, all growed up.
But just in case you’re feeling happy, I ought to announce this, the unspeakable truth. Time magazine’s cover for 19 June 1972, just days after my birthday, got it right. The lead article describes the shocking rise in occult practices and beliefs -or at least the shocking rise in the sort of people that believe this nonsense. But the cover made the truest statement of all – Satan Returns. Just days after I was born? Is there a connection (beyond the fundamental interconnectedness of all things)? I think we should be told.