It’s my birthday this Friday. I will be 38 years old. I can’t believe it. I really don’t feel it.
I got an early birthday present from my parents on Sunday (as they are away, gallivanting around France on my actual birthday on their Goldwing, resplendent in leathers and bi-focal sunglasses.) It’s a watch. A beautiful watch that I have wanted for a long while.
But it made me think – when did I start liking and yearning for watches? When did I start liking other things that ‘grown-ups’ covet? I know watches aren’t known as an ‘old-persons’ thing but, as a youngster hearing my Dad and Uncle ooohing and ahhhing over watches, I thought they were mad.
‘It’s made of titanium you say?’ ‘Greeeaaat’ *rolling eyes and turning back to Top of the Pops*
These ‘other things’ I now like? Rambling? Photography? Mowing the lawn every weekend? Wine? (appreciating and learning about it, not just slugging it back!) Soduku? Ovaltine? Antiques?
I know that its more about maturity and stuff, but I can’t remember turning mature and voluntarily letting the ‘wild child’ retire.
But, as my parents are testament to, you shouldn’t let your age be a barrier to anything. My Dad still trots off to Cowley Road every Monday night with his mates to watch live bands (although now they use their bus passes.) And they have always had a social life that challenged mine. There was many a night I ‘crept in’ at 3am – only to discover that they weren’t even back from their night out.
(Although – Dad, could you turn down the stereo on your bike when you arrive? It’s quite embarrassing for the girls 😉 and Mum, we actually cry with laughter watching you trying to hoik your leg over in your leathers!, so it’s not all bad I suppose.)