I think my mother finally managed to catch me masturbating after 27 years of botched attempts. Then again, I can't be sure. The swift inclination to curl up into a ball, as it were, when she enters the room is uncanny. If she saw it, at least it's some kind of milestone. Well, maybe not. I had, after all, brought down the house with girlfriends in the past, and the telltale sign of blood and whathaveyou on the sheets never needed much explaining.

I am all of 27.

This is only noteworthy, and accordingly I bring it up, because there really aren't many more milestones left. I nearly killed myself drinking on holiday this past month, but I'd done that before, albeit, never before attempted it so spiritedly (no pun inte- ah what the hell). I also thought I'd fallen for a certain young lady, but I'd already done that, so I knew it was the trick of summer's harsh cruelty.

At least we're all going to die.