The date and time header to this entry are telling all kinds of lies: it is not that day, but the next, which is of significance not only for being Waitangi Day, but also my birthday. (This is generally agreed to be, for someone in my field of work, cute.)
Thirty-two is not much different from thirty-one, but compared to, say, twenty-two, it’s better for life experience, social finesse (I hope), weight of memory, number of dogs and disposable income.
