In a week’s time, I officially Turn Thirty. I’m not looking forward to it. Especially since, I am told, it’s actually the law here that when you hit 30, you have to grow a goatee. Now I’ve been telling people that it aint gonna happen, I went through my ‘beards’ phase years ago, as all who rememeber me can attest. “Oh you say that now,” people tell me. Yes I do say it now, and I’ll be saying it next week too – the beards aint coming back! However, as if to prove the goatee-law, while watching the golf we noticed that Tiger Woods is now sporting a recently-hairy chin, and a quick google-search revealed that he turned thirty exactly a month ago. Insert golf-related joke here if you must, but it’s got me worried. Can you get fined if you don’t have one?

Of course, there are other phenomena related to turning thirty Stateside. For one thing, you no longer have to prove your age when buying beer. Oh yes, if you are under 30, you get carded – even though the legal drinking age is 21. It is pretty ridiculous to say the least, especially in the supermarket when you know the person selling it to you is at least eight years younger than you and has no idea there was more than one President George Bush. Maybe people grow goatees as a social sign to prove their thirtigenarian status. Thirtigenarian, that is surely not a word? Well, it is now. I’m Turning Thirty, I say so.

If ‘twenty’ rhymed with ‘plenty’, ‘thirty’ rhymes with ‘dirty’, which is not good. Well, it’s better than ‘warty’, which rhymes with ‘forty’ – no disrespect to fortigenarians, of course. Thirty also rhymes with ‘flirty’, which I certainly am not, and ‘shirty’, which I kind of am. But the worst part about Turning Thirty is, and I’m serious here, that it is the name of a truly awful book by Mike Gayle (the former agony-uncle turned agony-inducing-author). I’d prefer to say I turning thirty-one than be identified with that absolute bum-wipe of a novel. In a one-line book review I’d write: Don’t Ever Read This Dire Book, EVER. But that’s just the Thirty-year-old Grumpy Old Man coming out, and he’s always been there.

So what can I expect from my thirties? The plans are to start a family with my wife, to have a career with my MA, and maybe who knows even finally learn to drive… Other than that, who can tell? I don’t even know what to expect from my birthday itself – my wife has a surprise planned, which involves going somewhere the weekend before, and that’s all I know. I’m intrigued! I love surprises – unless the surprise involves me waking up next Tuesday and deciding, “hmm, i think I’ll only shave some of my face today…”