I'm officially a middle aged grinch, a grumpy Gen X'er. I don't like birthdays, well, I don't like my birthday, it's not that it's one year closer to the grave, or a reminder that you're falling a part. I just don't like fuss. And of all the days in the year, surely this date of all dates is the spot in the calendar you should be able to do what the fuck you want?
I usually manage to escape, being a surfer is the best excuse ever. You have the very valid alibi that somewhere, anywhere is going to be better than home. You should try it, get the ball in motion a few months prior, hinting that you'd love to do a birthday roady, maybe the rellys can chip in for a motorhome hire? My thing is; what do you really want for a birthday? To be tied to obligatory dinners or be out in the briny.
No prizes for guessing where this year. To be honest I kind of thought I was being a bit lame just driving 2 hours down the road. But I had the sickest couple of days. Shooting and surfing, hanging out with old friends, sleeping in the Troopy, just being a photo/surfie guy.