It’s only Wednesday and I’m looking forward to the weekend already. It’s a different ‘Friday feeling’ nowadays. I no longer fancy town, no longer fancy drinking as much Stella as is physically possible, no longer fancy ‘lock-ins’, nor waking up with that horrific ‘kill me now’ feeling on a Saturday morning, and spend the day preparing to do it all again in the evening. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still partial to a fine ale, or a tipple of G&T, but I’d rather do it at home with dribble on my shoulder and the faint whiff of sick surrounding me. Ok, I know, I’m two weeks off my 25th birthday and I’m boring.
My friends and I are at an awkward stage in life; half of them are buying homes, getting married, and having babies, while the other half are travelling, drinking themselves senseless, and moaning about their friends who have chosen to settle down. The latter isn’t for me. I’ve got that out of my system. No, there’s nothing I look forward to more than weekends with my two favourite people. I’ve noticed the look of peoples’ faces when I tell them this; the ones who are partying and ‘having a good time’. It’s a look of confusion, and in some cases pity; “Why would you want to go walking at weekends instead of ‘getting wrecked’?” “Aren’t you bored and lonely sat in all week with a baby?” I can’t be bothered with hangovers anymore. I’ve discovered nature; it’s beautiful, calm, and if you look at the right foliage you’ll find loads of berries to put with gin! Ok, I know, I’m two weeks off my 25th birthday and I’m boring.
I’m not bothered about clothes anymore. I know, I can’t believe it either. For those of you who don’t know me, I used to sing on cruise ships and had a different sparkly outfit for every possible occasion. It’s not a priority anymore. In fact I’ve just finished teaching, and realised I’ve taught for two hours with sick on my shoulder. Thanks for telling me, kids (not). I live in jeans, sick-covered t-shirts, and my DMs. Long gone are the lace knickers. I swapped them a year ago for ‘Bridget Jones style’ pants (sorry Alex). I even go to the shops with no make up now, and leave my ‘Brian May’ hair to do its own thing. I’ve even replaced the Topshop app on my phone with Baby Gap. Ok, I know, I’m two weeks off my 25th birthday and I’m boring.
The thing that shocked me the most is that I’ve developed an interest in politics. I fully support Britain in taking on the Syrian refugees, I think it’s fantastic that Corbyn got in, and I’m considering joining the Labour Party. Perhaps I’ve got too much time to tap away on the iPad whilst I’m feeding Theo? Who knows? I’d rather be doing that than watching Eastenders (which I’ve secretly been known to do). If you hadn’t guessed by now, I’m two weeks off my 25th birthday and I’m boring. And I don’t care.