My birthday is in three days. I'll be 33, which is a year older than Bruce Lee when he died.

I don't know why I've consistently focused on that fact for the last year, except perhaps as a subconscious acknowledgement of Bruce's obsession with the cultivation of the human body. His immense physicality is captured eternally on film, and his early death means there will never be a record of his gradual, physical deterioration. It's 30-odd years on since his death, and he's still, eternally, at the peak of his life.

Still, getting older hasn't proved so terrible. I don't obsess over counting grey hairs - or lost hair - and I'm in good shape, better, in fact, they I was 10 years ago.

And I have my family at my side, and a lot of years left of relative "youth".

And hey, by the time I'm certifiably old, we'll all be stomping the earth in giant robot bodies anyway, so it won't matter anymore.