According to my friends, I was "born aged 42" and have been hovering around that mark every since. Even as a child, I don't think I was very good at it. Early video footage shows me aged eight, earnestly trying to read the newspaper whilst my younger brother dances around me annoyingly (admittedly, he was only about two at the time).
I like tomato juice, theatre, olives, art deco and grown-up books. I dislike nightclubs, reality TV, mobile phone ringtones and studenty conversations along the lines of "why are we all here?". I like the grown up stuff.
I also like not having to tidy my bedroom before I go out and play. And the fact that I can go out on a weeknight without having to do my violin practice first.
I was coerced into going to Center Parcs a few weeks back. There was a giant chlorinated swimming pool, utterly rammed with germy children. In the ensuing melée, I was kicked by three of the little nasties. And I only managed to get two of them back.
I'm spending this weekend with a toddler (and, thankfully, her mum). Really looking forward to seeing them both, but not sure how the little one is going to enjoy the lectures on postmodern readings of feminist literature that I've got lined up.
Maybe we could go to the Rupert the Bear museum. Only joking of course. Life isn't that desperate. Yet.
1 comment:
Our 42 year old friend - yes! It was re-inforced by the fact that you had a 42 year old's purse, when you were supposed to be 17!
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