On my way to work this morning I decided to email the head of the local school to complain about the children walking along, four deep, and blocking my way. I was incensed and even my loud huffing did nothing to move their steely resolve to walk in my path.
Oh god, I can almost feel the descent of middle age weighing heavy on my shoulders. So far I haven’t emailed but it might be just a matter of time. Just a couple of weeks ago I wrote to the council to complain about the amount of dog pooh on my road. A valid point you may argue but as I was writing a little voice inside was saying ‘ You’ll end up like one of those Alan Bennett characters, thick with pathos and never ever taken seriously again’.
Sorry Alan – I love your work but I don’t want to be it.
I’ve also bought two air fresheners for my office because, well because, it just doesn’t smell too great. I’m beginning to concede, air fresheners, angry letters to councils and emails to schools does not a cool carefree girl make.
So what the bloody hell am I?
Before I head off into an Alan Bennett stage production never to be seen again I wanted to spend a few moment s thinking about it.
This week I:
- Read my home insurance policy document because I wasn’t sure what was covered under accidental damage.
- I saved my bread crusts to make bread crumbs to make ‘nice’ chicken nuggets.
- I drank ridiculous amounts of alcohol on Saturday night and danced – I also, embarrassingly, threw up!
- I bought a Flash mark eraser because they were on offer for 99P
- I told a driver to f*** off and gave him the middle finger
- I smoked one solitary cigarette during drunken Saturday night antics ( and I loved it and it might have been two)
This list is far from exhaustive – I did manage to wash, eat and dress myself and Arthur – I’m nothing if not a multi-tasker.
So I think what I’m saying is I’m either a middle-aged woman who likes to get drunk or a thirty-something mum warding off middle-age. Or perhaps I’m neither or a bit of both and that’s ok. I just need to make peace with this slightly schizophrenic scarf wearing, drunken insurance expert.
Right, I’m off to construct a very angry email – pass me the gin.