I have the sudden need to tell people that my birthday is looming near, and yes before you ask it does suck to have a birthday six days before Christmas, its cold, dark and everybody is suddenly lethargic (its as if everybody is hibernating getting ready for the post-Christmas sales.) I'm getting a year older (17) and its my last year of childhood, a very daunting thought as I quite like the idea of climbing a tree and spending the rest of my life in dungarees and over the knee socks, I will be able to drive, get a tattoo and go to an adult jail, all fun recreational activities you will agree. I don't want to grow up, I like the safety net of secondary school and not being trusted to vote. Arhhh Teenage angst
I was pleased to reach 17, if only because, when I was at primary school, I longed to own a pair of knee-high boots. Upon voicing this desire, somebody kindly informed me that knee-high boots, could ONLY be carried off from the age of 18, well 17 will have to do. It is somewhat disconcerting to think that I took fashion advice from somebody I had probably only ever seen in a standard-issue school uniform, or, at a push, a PE kit, but still, it's something to which I have stoically adhered to. The question is, now that I am the right age to rock a knee-high boot, what type of shoe do I have to look forward to other than slippers? But there are of aspects to growing old which do appeal to me. I'm simply allowing myself to be brainwashed by the consensus these days that life beyond 40 sucks. But why? Personally, I love warm jumpers in sensible colours, I cite the Queen and her love of Barbour as a style inspiration, I'd like to spend my days reading a library of books and I happen to find beachside strolls rather fulfilling. I'm particularly looking forward to being old enough to sit in a corner at Christmas time, in MY chair, making completely out-of-order comments to my family that they'll have to accept because I'm ancient and, probably, senile.