You know, because there was never a year 0

I'm heading back up to Sheffield in a week and a day, almost to the minute actually, where I'll be spending 7 hours on a train hopefully writing something good and meaningful (or failing that, something witty, or just, you know, anything). But everyone knows I'm just going to be watching films and episodes of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and on Twitter going "Just passed Bristol!" and "going into tunnel now!", because that's the kind of interesting stuff I like to tweet about. After having spent the first few weeks of the new decade doing not an awful lot of anything, I'd like to think my decade starts when I return and can get things done.    There aren't any plans for the next decade, because ten years is a stupidly long amount of time to be planning anything. In ten years I managed to leave England, move to the exact opposite end of the world, spend the millennium celebrations at the Auckland Domain, moved house five times, change schools twice, make dozens of amazing friends before heading back to England and spend the remaining three years doing more of, well, exactly the same.

Planning ten years of your life is impossible, or at the very least, incredibly restricting. First thing's first, I gotta learn how to animate properly, then I gotta graduate. That's probably the only certainty in my life (debatably) . Ten years is too long to be thinking of anything. 

Hey, remember when the year 2000 was both a perfect utopia and a nuclear, Big-Brother-run dystopia? And we got something in the most boring part of the middle. But at least we have wireless internet. That shit is more futuristic than hover cars. And I guess half the nation is controlled by Big Brother, just not in the way George Orwell had predicted.

Oh, and technically the decade should begin in 2011 (and the new millennium should have been celebrated in 2001). But those who celebrated it then are just pedantic spoilsports, according to Douglas Adams