Friday night marked one year since I had my fall. Tomorrow it will be a year since I split up with my ex. The changes happened fast, but the effects resounded through the next twelve months.
It has been a strange year. I've spent the majority of it repairing the damage I did to myself and my friendships last summer.
Friday was also the 21st birthday of one of my best girlfriends at university. Champagne, wonderful food, tipsy noisy conversation in a beautiful hotel (Miss McG to me, on a toilet break - "I can't even hear you across the room" - I'm notoriously mouthy with a few drinks inside me) and then to a bar where I smashed a glass of wine on the floor while gesturing enthusiastically.
Shortly after the barman had swept up my embarrassment, I was chatting to my friend A about the evening and quite how good a time we'd all had. The birthday girl was propped on a stool by this point, lolling a bit. It was time to go home. I remember, through the blur of alcohol, telling A "I don't believe things have been this good, ever."
And they haven't. Anticipating the end of university, proud to know this amazing group of girls and boys, meeting someone new and just as interesting and exciting, with summer plans and happy expectations for next year.
And Indiana Jones is on the TV tonight. What more could I want?