When news happens, text KENEWS and your photos and videos to 80360. Or contact us by email or phone.
My shoes, these days, are mainly comfy...
TODAY I’ll be mainly sitting in a darkened room weeping nostalgically for the ‘good old days’.
It turns out that I am old - and not ‘cool old’ like Mick Jagger or George Clooney, but ‘bad old’, where I own Reeboks and get the names of pop bands wrong (One Dimension, anyone?)
What sparked this depressing epiphany was an inoccuous conversation in the office about music.
“1995 was a sad year, wasn’t it?” I remarked to a couple of my colleagues.
I got blank faces all round.
“It was when Robbie Williams left Take That!” I explained. “You must remember...?”
“Well actually, ” said one. “I don’t remember it.”
“Because I was only three at the time.”
Oh dear God, I thought, she’s still at primary school and she’s conned the Gazette into giving her a job.
“Except,” said a loud voice in my head, “she’s not at primary school is she? She can legally drive, get married and drink!”
I tried to shush the Harsh Voice of Truth, but it continued without my permission.
“She was born in the nineties...and she can legally drink...IN AMERICA!”
It’s come as something of a shock that I’m no longer the ‘yoof’ I thought I was even though, now I think about, the signs were all there.
Exhibit A: my shoes, these days, are mainly comfy.
Exhibit B: I don’t like clubbing anymore. (And why did I ever enjoy being cooped up in a loud, hot room with hundreds of strangers?)
Exhibit C: my niece thinks I’m old - and has told me several times.
Exhibit D: I have a lot of grey hair and I talk like my grandma.
So I’m going to spend the rest of the day in a darkened room, holding a candlelit vigil for naturally brown hair, unwrinkled skin and the ability to wear stilettoes without getting blisters.
I may even put on a bit of Take That - although there’ll be none of that post-Robbie rubbish, obviously.
Comments are closed on this article.