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Last day of being 55. Which makes no sense because I am 25. Forty years since I turned 16. Come on, that's ridiculous. If I'd been born when I was 16, I'd be 40 tomorrow. But I'm only 25.
Everything has turned upside down.
I don't believe anything that's happening in my life. I'm not old. I never had cancer. I will never die.
Sixteen years ago I was about to turn 40 (and to be fair, that feels like a long time ago). In sixteen years time I will be about to turn 72. It's OK sixteen years is ages. I've made myself feel young again. If you're reading this in sixteen years time you can now flick between this entry,
my entry from the night before I turned 40 and my entry for the day before I turn 72 and see how I feel then.
Of course there's a chance there will be no entry in sixteen years time. Don't be daft. I will never stop blogging. Oh you mean.... that the internet might have stopped working. Yes. Possibly. But I will be writing the blog on parchment or leaves and posting it to you.
My blog didn't reveal what was really going on that night 16 years ago -
you'll have to buy "How Not To Grow Up" to find out about that. Suffice to say it was a man having a breakdown. I was less than six months away from starting to date my future wife. I packed a bit into those six months. And good to get my major mid-life crisis out of the way before I was in my fifties or sixties. As you may have noticed from the news this year, it gets a lot more icky if you leave it that late. And it was bad enough as a 39 year old.
Do I miss those days? Only about 78% of the time.
My life now is much better.
Tonight I stayed in and watched Jack Whitehall pretending to be a robot. He's no Gemma Chan, even if he did used to go out with Gemma Chan.
And I think we can all agree that that was a better way to spend my time. Hmmmm. Goodbye 55. I can't pretend that I am in my early 50s any more. And it's a year since I was halfway through my fifties.
Oh God.
