For us though, as adults, it gets slower: the gaps between these fresh events in our own lives are filled with the mundane and the domestic.
This week, though, I have had some bizarre firsts. I (along with several others) was heckled at a poetry reading by a fella who was in no fit state and really needed a hug; and I've been called a Welsh Nationalist. I'm (notionally) English, so I'm not sure how that works, but still, brilliant.
Oh yeah, and a very nascent and talented writer, who I'm old enough to be a parent of, called me a 'new young writer'. I wish.
It's been an odd few days.
All of this is neatly wrapped up in the hours I spent at my mother-in-laws dining table making this out of thirty-year-old Lego blocks.
Not only is it an awesome red dragon, but his head rotates and swivels, his wings flap, and his tail has two points of articulation. I love Lego. And I love having a boy who loves Lego as much as his dad does.
