Current mood:	drained
Current music:	Beethoven: "9th Symphony, Molto Vivace"

Key to the Door
So I turned 21, big woop! Wanna fight about it!?

My birthday was very low key this year, which was unfortunate and unusual because a 21st is meant to be the one birthday where quite a lot of fuss is made. I suppose now that so many people are celebrating there 18th with almost the same amount of pomp as was traditionally tied to a 21st birthday in some peoples eyes, including my parents, they don’t really see it as necessary to make too much of a fuss about. A 18th birthday is also more significant in the modern age as turning 18 truly makes you an adult in the sense you are allowed to legally purchase alcohol, have a credit card and vote. Being 21 doesn’t really grant you a whole wave a new rights and abilities like being 18 does; the only thing I can do now do that I couldn’t before is go into those grotty pubs and clubs that only allow people 21 years and older in only...most of these venues usually allow 18 year olds in anyway and aren’t really the type of places most young people between 21-35 would be seen dead in anyway.

Sorry if I sound bitter. In all honesty I am not too bothered about not having a party; thing was that I enjoyed Emma’s and Kayleigh’s so much that I wanted them to enjoy mine. Mum wasn’t too keen on calling up the family (neither was I for that matter) and was unwilling to pay for any kind of party. What I then had in mind was having a small get together with just friends and maybe invite a few done from University; but work seemed to clash with dates in August and I didn’t want my friend from Uni including Alex to come down for just a small gathering, it would be pointless.

Ultimately then I gave up; I didn’t want to make too much of an effort myself so I can’t have wanted it much anyway. So I planned to be away from home on the day itself; I didn’t see in the point in hanging around the house doing nothing on my birthday, so I decided to pop up to Keele to use the library for different things, attend a Big Boy Tory Meeting which was going on in Newcastle that evening, and then go to dinner and stay in a hotel for the night with Alex; sort of like killing three birds with one stone. A couple of days before hand Chris, Emma, Kayleigh and Roddy treated me to cocktails and dinner which was very nice of them all a very unexpected.

We had a bit of a taste adventure at the restaurant. Me and Emma could not decided between two different deserts; we therefore decided to order both between us and share them; one was a chocolate cake and the other was a ice cream thing called ‘Ice and Fire.’ I found the cake rather stale, it was no where near moist enough for me. However something was very weird with the ice cream; it was giving me a burning sensation at the back in my throat. I did not dare say anything to Emma or the others in case I was having some kind of brain haemorrhage and was tasting odd things which I shouldn’t have been; but I couldn’t work out why the ice cream was causing me to feel this heat. I saw Emma making the same faces as I was; I risked sounding totally insane and asked... “is your throat burning.” Turns out hers was too, thankfully. Even though the whole thing was rather unpleasant, it didn’t stop us carrying on eating it...once we were done we asked the waiter what was actually in the desert. He said that the ice cream has a chilli-chocolate sauce on it. The lesson from this story...always...always...read the full description of the item on the menu before you order it otherwise you’ll end up with burning ice cream. Of course it wasn’t until then that we realised why the bloody dish was called ‘Ice and Fire’...our brains weren’t working at their normal speed that day it seems.

Anyway on the morning of the 9th I got up early to catch the train up to Stoke, Alex arrived literally a couple of minutes after me from Birmingham. We went in to Keele and got all the boring stuff over and done with in the library, then headed to Newcastle for lunch, and then we checked into the hotel. The hotel this time around was much, much nicer. The staff there were very pleasant, and the room was spacious, clean and had windows that actually opened; it was a shame I could not stay longer and make a weekend of it with Alex, but I had agreed to work on the 10th and 11th ages ago and could not get out of it. We attended the meeting and then we went to dinner in the new Italian place in Newcastle; which was ok...I choose an awful wine and we both felt very rushed, but the food was great.

When I returned I had a decent amount of cards waiting for me, many bursting with £20 and £10 notes and cheques. My brother Patrick got me series one of ‘My Name is Earl on DVD.’ I do not care for ‘My Name is Earl,’ interesting though that Patrick is a very big fan. Series 7 of Frasier and 8 of Seinfeld are out on DVD currently, and Patricks knows I am a big fan of both and am currently collecting both series...but he goes and buys me ‘My Name is Earl’...I would say ‘well it’s the thought that counts’ but I really don’t think he thought about it much, or rather he did think about it a lot and is trying to buy himself DVD under the guise that it is a gift for me; he even took the liberty of removing it from its cellophane wrapping so it can’t be returned...gah!

One card from an old friend had a lottery ticket in it. I’ve never understood why people would give someone a lottery ticket as a present. If you don’t win it’s a worthless piece of paper, if you do win a small amounts then I suppose it is ok, but if you win thousands and millions of pounds, then the gift is far too large and very embarrassing and the giver must be kicking themselves that they actually gave you the ticket in the first place.
And also, if you do win the jackpot...do you tell the person who gave you the ticket? Do you think they write the numbers down themselves so they can check and therefore know if you have won? What is the correct etiquette? Do you give them half or a quarter of the money? And then for as long as you know them they will feel like they personally have made you wealthy and have some kind of holding over you, you could never refuse them a loan if they get into financial trouble and you’ll be buying them drinks and dinner for the rest of your life. If you cut all ties completely then they will go the press with the story and you become a modern day Ebenezer Scrooge. There are so many potential problems!

I’ve not checked the ticket yet, so you could be reading the blog of a millionaire. If there are no more entries after this one, then you can all assume I won the jackpot and now live on an island somewhere.