Fifty.

Not my fiftieth post (that was this one). Me. Fifty. Today.

Half a century.

It feels like that should mean something, so I'm posting about it. I'm not sure what though. It does feel a lot nearer the end than the beginning, I have to say. Likely that's because I've been in a more morbid frame of mind since my sister died (on 24th October last). Then again I might live to be 103, in which case I'm not even halfway through. Now that does seem utterly bizarre. More years than I've lived so far. What might I do with so long?

I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy livin' – or get busy dyin'.