On the rollercoaster that was 2003
I've only realised that 2003 was over. I missed the celebrations and the overcrowded clubs with sweaty singletons desperate for a snog, and the mistletoe, and the perfunctory emotional hugs, and I haven't got trousered or made a single good resolution. What's left - oh yeah, I can look back on the battlefield.
2003 can be summed up in three words for me: death, love and therapy. I think it's a pretty good balance. The year started on an intense sex high followed by an equally intense boredom. I made a once-worn kinky dress for Valentine's Torture Garden night. I got dumped once, I lost my little brother to a six-storey building and met an incredible woman, all in the same month. In 2003, I took 15 planes and went clubbing 4 times. I had four memorable arguments. I called in sick at work a total of three times. I sent hundreds of emails to the above-mentioned woman. And I found a shrink.
A well rounded year, all things considered.