13/10/08, BA

I am 42 and my willowy days are behind me. C. is 20, raven - haired, fulsome of form and saucy of eye. Battle lines are drawn up in The Gibraltar, and an evening skirmish at my place results in a closely-contested draw.*
That's 20 - twenty - years old. I may have peaked too early.

14/10/08, BA

There is something to be said for staying in occasionally, drinking urine-hued Argentinian chardonnay and listening to AC/DC on half-decent headphones. No need to bring up the resultant jumping around in front of the full-height mirror. That's private.

You can stand in a bar at 10pm anywhere in the world and shout "AC/DC" and at least one person will grin excitedly at you, and, more often than not, come over and breathlessly dissect the guitar solo from "Overdose". That means, if I have my facts correct, a BILLION people like AC/DC. That feels important. Let there be rock!

NB: This doesn't work with Rush. If you stand in a bar at 10pm and shout "La Villa Strangiato", you will, I suspect, be strangled before you make it back to your villa.
Or Hawkwind. Someone with boogly eyes may come over, dribble on your cuffs**, and begin to worship you as a galactic messiah, but the most likely outcome is embarrassed indifference. Do Not Panic! Think Only Of Yourself!

One of the benefits of a long motorcycle trip is that it allows you fully to think through these issues. So where in SHIT is my bike? I would cheerfully bite out my pineal gland for 10 minutes on 2 wheels up the Avenida 9 de Julio.

*Actually I won.
** Hello Benny.