With the big day fast approaching comes a series of words (if I muster the bleurgh to write them) surrounding this ‘monumental’ occasion that feels like the only thing we’ve been able to talk about for months.
But to kick start, for some much needed light-heartedness, and to doth my cap to where this blog once was, sits a space for thirty things that I’ve realised as I walk towards thirty.
Here’s to my 30 at 30…please share yours.
- I now experience hangovers as savage as the ones I used to have when I would frequent Infernos and drink shots of stuff that was luminous green from takeaways. Me vs. salt = a mouth like a carpet. Like an Infernos carpet.
- I am really fussy about the noise levels in drinking establishments and will not stay if I cannot hear the voice of my fellow patron.
- I spend 88% of my time feeling like a complete arsehole because I’ve only just cottoned on that plastics are going to cause the end of the earth.
- I spend a similar amount of time feeling guilty about not being a vegan or not pretending to believe that the milk from nuts is as tasty as ACTUAL MILK and doesn’t in fact make your coffee taste like paint.
- I have zero tolerance for people who don’t keep plans without exceptionally valid reason.
- I will never choose to be gluten free. Ever.
- I still eat far too many Cheese & Onion crisps in any given calendar month.
- I used to want nothing more than to ensure I was always ridiculously busy seeing friends. I now long for nothing more than a Saturday where I’m not expected to attend something that requires a card, a bunch of flowers and at least forty quid spent on gifts/booze/cabs/all.
- I have a new found, confident desire to call literally anyone on their bullshit.
- I’m finally content with the fact that I neither can nor want to wear heels.
- I haven’t had a lay in for at least 18 months.
- I vow to stop spending my money going for drinks with people I deep down don’t really enjoy the company of.
- Reading really is the best way to spend your commute. Instagram makes you feel like a shit person who doesn’t own enough stuff.
- I genuinely enjoy ‘getting the most out of my Saturday’s’ now. I mean. Who even says that?
- I don’t know who anyone ever is on the “Celebs do..” shows anymore. It makes me feel like my Mum.
- I have the most meaningful text conversations with my best mates between the hours of 6.30am and 8.15am whilst we’re up for no reason and commuting.
- Nobody knows what they’re doing. Everyone you come across, at work or otherwise, is winging it. Wing it too.
- I willingly bought a jumper in M&S this week and it’s my new favourite thing.
- All I can focus on at the moment is owning my own kitchen that I can tile.
- I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up.
- I’ve stopped feeling like a failure that I haven’t written that book/ written a screenplay/ become a CEO by 30 like I always thought I would. Ruth Jones didn’t write Gavin & Stacey until her late thirties and I will hold that with me until my 37th year.
- I still don’t really iron anything, ever.
- I get a real kick out of sending things to people in the post.
- I really really really enjoy going out for breakfast and then going home again.
- I have to stop myself talking to younger women I see filtering selfies on the train and telling them that they are pretty enough as they are. Because I might be 30, but I’m not old enough to be classed as a ‘batty old woman’ yet and it would just be weird.
- I found a grey hair in my eyebrow three weeks ago and never felt more my age, ever.
- I’m finally content with the fact that I am not a rosé wine drinker.
- I now glare at kids on public transport that drop litter.
- I bought a one-piece for holiday last year and it’s, at last, the happiest I’ve ever felt on a beach because I wasn’t worried about the appearance of my stomach to Greek strangers.
- I hold my hands up and admit that deep down, amongst all of it, my favourite thing to do is getting stuck into an ITV Drama and a pesto pasta on a Wednesday night. Absolute belter.