Turning 40

I think most people who know me well have thought I've been middle-aged for most of my life; and now I am.  The mid-life crisis must no doubt be getting ready to spring into action.  One of my aims in life was to be retired from academia by the time I reached 40 and be a full-time writer.  Well, here I still am slaving away in the university with 25 more years until retirement (sigh).  At least I have been able to get stuff published, even if I can't make a living from it.  I guess 31 books (if I'm also allowed to count each of the 12 volumes of the encyclopedia as a book) is a decent enough haul.  As a birthday treat I've lined up a Woodrell (Tomato Red), Furst (The Spies of Warsaw) and Connelly (The Scarecrow) [given Inridason and McKinty will also be August reviews, I suspect competition for book of the month is going to be fierce].  Now, if I could write something that was even a decent imitation of their shadows, I'd be a happy man.  Perhaps that endeavour will be the source of the mid-life crisis ...