I have not been looking forward to turning 40, and it certainly wasn't something that made it on to my "Things to do this summer" list when I started my journal in November 2001.

I've never forgotten turning 30, and 20, and on both occasions being overwhelmed by existential dread that a milestone was passing that I could never return to. That a barrier now existed between my youth and myself, and that I was edging only closer to death.

Well in hindsight it turns out both those times I still had youth on my side, and now I have the life experience to know for certain that a barrier between my youth and myself now exists and I am edging only closer to death.

But, other than dying, what can you do to avoid turning 40? Nothing, you just live as best you can, helpless in the epoch, admiring the flowers occasionally and wondering if there are things you should be trying to do before the day arrives. But there's nothing.

And when it finally happens you expect relief because at least now it's over, but it's even worse than you expected.

You wake up and eat cake for breakfast and go for a walk with your dog and wife and you see family and drink coffee and eat more cake and look at the ocean and feel the sunlight and smell the jasmine on the breeze and pat your dog and talk to friends and beat Connections on the toilet and do forty-five minutes of stretching and rehab and some single leg squats.

And that's why I don't want to turn 40. Because I could do this every day forever.

The last six days of my holiday (2.4% of a Jupiter day) have passed by at the normal, inevitable speed of life on planet Earth. Overall, an excellent break, where I accomplished nearly all of my to-do list (leaving enough to feel justified that it was a suitable amount of tasks) as well as relaxing and living in the moment occasionally as well.

Tuesday - a leisurely stroll around Morialta, with a break for breakfast, and then coffee on the way home. Plus more home-made pizza because, why not, it was holidays.

More wattle.

Wednesday - the sun was forecast to be shining, and I'd thought of doing a bike ride in the morning but after putting on my red shorts I decided I'd prefer just to walk around Croydon looking at flowers with Nash and drinking coffee. Here we are both enjoying a sun-patch.

In the evening, caught up with J and then took on the quiz at Big Shed with other members of Pump up the JAMB. Took out second, which I was quite elated about.

Thursday was my Azure Certification study day, noting that a lot of that study was while walking around the neighbourhood, clearing out my closet, walking clothes to the charity shop, cooking dinner, and working out. But mostly it was a lot of Azure study. I did walk Vanessa over to a friend's before dinner, and walked home westward watching the dark-purple sky light up with lightning flashes in the distance. As I wasn't getting rained on, this was pretty epic. I was listening to Azure study material at the time.

Friday was more exam revision (while walking around Croydon) followed by the exam which wrapped up around lunchtime. The rest of the afternoon was a blur of eating, working out, walking in the sunshine (and rain), and then writing up all my feelings about the intense cram session as my brain decompressed.

Saturday was a busy day, starting with a very short, slightly misty walk around North Adelaide with Nash who enjoyed the occasional patch of sun, but wanted no part of the activity once she realised the bakery wasn't our destination.

After that, went to the Central Markets for some produce and a good coffee and a brunch with Vanessa's friends, followed by a workout and then afternoon tea with in-laws. Then, dinner and showdown with Alex.

Sunday, the final day, partly cloudy but no rain, has had the feeling you get when you spend the afternoon in the winter sun and then the night settles in, multiplied by sixteen. That's not to say it hasn't been pleasant or productive. It began with the customary North Adelaide walk to bakery, pide-based pizzas for lunch, and then an afternoon doing some coding for the quiz night.

Before sunset we drove to the beach for a final walk in the sun.

I bought coffee all but two of my days off. The garden is looking fresher, the seedlings are shooting up ready for planting in September. I've seen family, friends, the beach, the hills. I've hiked and walked and been productive around the house. I watched half of a movie, and didn't play any video games. I've exercised nearly every day of the break. I've eaten desserts every day of the break. The flowers in the backyard are just starting to bloom, and there's fresh skin on my fingers after the friction burns of the first Tuesday from using the pruner... Hopefully these are good omens for the next chapter of entries tagged 'Office'. If not, I am not afraid of temporary unemployment once more.

It was a pretty nice day today.

Earlier this year after a visit to The Bluff, Nash led me to believe that she might be about to die of old age.

Thanks to some medical science - namely 4Cyte and a course of anti-arthritis injections - she has bounced back and returned to The Bluff with the vigour of a puppy, or at least an eight year old dog...

On a late winter day that hinted without subtlety about the coming new life of spring, Nash enjoyed my temporary retirement.

After we started with coffee and breakfast among the almond blossoms.

I also spotted some birds and a van.

(Not pictured - lamb and rosemary pie)

Much nicer than the office today.

Today was not the first day of my life that began with sunrise in North Adelaide walking the dog and sunset at the beach walking with my wife. I didn't take any pictures, which is not because there was nothing to see nor great light. I am privileged that despite what happens in my life I can enjoy pleasures such as these with such regularity that I don't even feel the need to document them. I also ate what apparently is Australia's best breakfast of 2023 and I didn't take photos of that either.

What I did document today were these Nash themed oat-flour gingerbread cookies.

This morning, Steve and I climbed from the saddle to the top of Timbertop Mountain in the Victorian High Country. It was a combination of many of the things that I enjoy. Walking up steep slopes. Eating cereal, fruit and yogurt. Photography. Spending quality time with brothers.

I felt sad after it was over and we'd drunk a coffee and Steve drove away. The world is a big place and it feels like it's becoming bigger. Maybe because I'm closing in on forty and time feels shorter. Maybe because I always enjoyed going to the pub and playing pool and it happens so rarely these days that when it does happen I am overwhelmed by nostalgia.

There were a lot of snakes on the mountain. A Mayfly bit my leg. The view at the top was nice. Overall, it felt good.

Some days it seems bizarre that my job is to sit, which is not very comfortable, and not to walk up steep hills, which feels so natural.

It was three degrees this morning, and I couldn't help think back to the summer of last month and some of the unsung heroes that made it what it was.

Water Bottle

After a day of juggling water refills in the four small bottles we accumulated on the flights over, we bought this bottle in Rome and proceeded to refill it countless times from the free and often constantly running water taps in Italy, Switzerland and Paris. The bottle finally went dry at the security checkpoint for the final flight back into Australia due to the Australian government's policy to keep incoming passengers dehydrated. As if we needed another reason to think Europe was better than Australia. It was recycled in South Australia (hopefully).

Bottle in Lucerne in front of one of the million free, delicious water fountains of Europe.

Spoons

What started as a pair in Rome for the cost of one gelato (I fished them out of a bowl of spoons sneakily). Despite being compostable they proved extremely durable and honestly I do not feel confident to put them in a green bin. Extremely handy for consumption of high protein yogurt and pudding tubs directly from the supermarket, and sturdy enough to stir a Tupperware tub of oats and yogurt on a walk, where other spoons failed and crumbled. Half of the duo went MIA in Milan, the other is still going strong four weeks later.

Yes, we did bring the Tupperware from home for this purpose.

Knife

Probably the only positive out of the takeaway lasagne I bought in Florence was the serrated, plastic knife which then went on a killing spree, including slicing several baguettes, cutting up a cucumber during a picnic in Paris, and spreading a lot of knock-off hazelnut spread on croissants and crepes.

One last crepe for the road, Charles de Gaulle Airport. Also featuring the backup hazelnut spreader, a Gelato scoop from Rome.

Forks

Drafted in Rome on our first weekend, started life in a takeaway pasta and went on to scoop a variety of savoury snacks and home-assembled meals. Also pitched in as a spoon after the attrition of our original set of two. The back of each prong was hollow and tapered in at the point, making them quite annoying to clean.

A tin of tuna in Montmartre. In Europe, tins of flavoured tuna are actually large enough to nourish a standard sized human.

Socks

The good thing about merino socks is, like Marino shirts, as long as you don't soil them you can just hang them somewhere to air out for a day and then rewear them. (I will die on this hill). This makes them ideal for vacation as you only need to pack a few shirts and socks to get you through a long holiday. This is okay for a month, but the Smart Wool socks I bought in 2013 have unfortunately reached the end of the road. Bought in New York due to me not packing enough socks, I had no idea that I would fall in love with the best, most comfortable and temperature regulating socks I'd ever wear. I remember being disappointed when I realised what I'd bought wasn't a 2 pack, unaware that I'd get more wears out of these socks than any other pair so far in my life.

Alas, you can't wear socks every second day of winter for ten years without them eventually succumbing to wear and tear, and though there are only a few holes among the thin parts unfortunately hanging them outside for a night won't fix that. The time was right to say goodbye, and - like Jim Morrison - lay these socks to rest in Paris.

Skin on my Toes

It was a long and painful death, but it died for a good cause - the sights of Ischia and the Amalfi Coast, and from the tops of the landmarks in Florence.

Low resolution for your viewing pleasure.

Belt

(Not Pictured)
My belt did not die in Europe, but it earned a medal of honour for being able to pop the lids of multiple cheap as heck beers in Milan and Paris when I lacked a bottle opener.

Butt Pillow

(Not Pictured)
Lasted until Naples, then taken by the trains into the unknown because I was in a rush to get the suitcase and forgot I'd been sitting on it.

Today I tried being a Parisian. After being here six nights, seeing most of the tourist attractions, eating a lot of kebabs and working out how to use the self service checkouts at Monoprix I finally found myself with a couple of hours free to live in the city instead of visit it.

This meant, leaving my hotel wearing sneakers instead of hiking boots. Donning sunglasses and noise cancelling headphones. No backpack, camera, or map. I had places to go and things to do.

My first impressions, it reminded me of living in Sydney. There too, any visit to the city for work or leisure is always slowed down by tourists. Paris is a lot vaster than Sydney. And because of the language, tourists stand out much more here too. I would imagine as a Parisian that it would be easy to feel superior when there is a ubiquitous lower class of human - the tourist - in your daily life behaving clueless and obnoxious because they don't know your language or your culture.

I strode by some tourists on my way to the supermarket, and left them standing dumbly while they waited for traffic signals that I jaywalked through. I reached some gardens with a snack and a beer and music on and felt very at home putting my feet up on a second chair and relaxing under the cloudy, yet warm summer afternoon sky.

My belonging in Parisian lasted until someone sat next to me at the park and their cigarette smoke put me off. Which was not long.

This was actually my second visit to the Luxembourg Gardens today, and third gardens in general. I don't think I will ever tire of going for a walk first thing in the morning and then eating breakfast somewhere pleasant. The destination for us today was Jardin des Plantes. I was forced to eat my oats with a fork as one of the spoons has been MIA for a while.

We then indulged in more summer fruits from the street markets of Rue Mouffetard, as well as a chocolate covered eclair, that we took and enjoyed in Luxembourg under nice skies and in front of nice flowers.

Then we did visit one final museum, because we already had the reservation for Sainte-Chapelle. This place is only really worth visiting because of the stain glass windows, and yeah, they are impressive.

Each panel is a full story, most are books of the bible. I'm starting the plan now for converting my June journal entries into stain glass.

After that we ate lunch at an Israeli style creperie, enjoying a savoury crepe followed by a buttery one. This gave me some fuel for the being a Parisian that followed.

Our final evening: another visit to the bookstore, then dinner at Rosie's BBQ, and a walk along the river enjoying the sunset.

And that was that. C'est fini. Nothing left to do but go to bed so that I can then travel for 26 hours and end up in the cold.