Much as seemed a neat idea to borrow Ken's way of minimising the passage of time, being sixteen once was quite enough, without repeating it another three times on top. Instead, I merely note that the once unthinkable turns out to be very comfortable, thank you very much, though staying out till quarter to three isn't an option any more, and I'm not entirely sure about the horoscope I noticed on Friko's blog a while ago:
The man born under Pisces shall be a great goer, a fornicator, a mocker and covetous; he will say one thing and do another. He shall trust in his sapience, he shall have good fortune; he will be a defender of widows and orphans. He shall be fearful on water; he shall soon pass all adversities and live seventy-two years after nature.
[Kalendar of Shepheardes, 1604]
Well, that's me told.