I BROKE an ornament yesterday. Good. It was a little frog sitting on a rock with a fishing rod and an even smaller fish dangling on the end of the line. It was awful. I probably knocked it off with some kind of sub-conscious malice. I didn’t buy it. It was a gift. Obviously from someone who didn’t like me. I want to know why it seems to be one of the natural laws of the world that the number of ornaments you are given rises in direct proportion to your age. If we ever move we’ll need a container ship just to hold the ornaments! When I was 18…

THE Romans weren’t stupid. They had Valentine’s Day under control. They called it the Lupercian festival. You bunged the names into a hat. The names of all the women, mark you, and whichever name you drew out was yours for the purpose of sexual favours for 12 months. Before you hark for the good old days let me just point out the flaws. First… you might have got an ugly one. Second (and worse!)… you might have got the woman of your dreams, but unless you were luckier than a Gold Lotto winner, and drew her name twice, you’d have to give her up after 12 months. Then 1500 years…

WHAT is going on! Everywhere I look, couples are splitting up. Couples my age, so believe me, sex is not the problem. Not that we don’t do it, you understand. You just begin to realise it’s not what makes the world go round. Tea in bed on a Saturday morning. That’s what makes the world go round. And eggs and bacon for breakfast. It was different when I was in my thirties and everywhere I looked couples were swapping partners and beds like Pokemon cards. The wives would come and cry on your shoulder, which could be interesting… And that’s the other thing — this time it’s the wives who…

THE zip on my trousers has broken. At the airport. At the airport, in the lavatory. Hardly worth adding really, because I’m not in the habit of fiddling with my fly in broad daylight in an airport departure lounge. Zips are a Good Thing. I’m a big admirer of zips, but not on trousers. They weren’t so bad when they were metal. Now they’re plastic they’re hopeless. I thought the faithful old button did an admiral job. When one fell off, the damage was limited. So long as you didn’t stoop, no one noticed. Even Velcro has a more tenacious grip than a zip, although it would probably play havoc…

G’DAY. No worries. Fair dinkum. I have arrived. In two days it’s Australia Day. I shall have been here for 4911 days. It’s time to take stock. They don’t use the word ‘naturalised’ any more, when you become an Australian citizen. Something to do with the implication that you were unnatural previously. Yes, well… I was wondering how naturalised I’ve become. Not very. I’ve tried. Truly I have. I’ve eaten spaghetti bolognese in sandwiches and driven with one hand hanging out the window, but I have to admit it didn’t come naturally. I still wear socks inside my sandals and I still prefer wine to beer. I am getting a…