Growing up

Sitting in my parent's front room at 11am this morning, eating chocolate croissants (dropping flakes everywhere and making an almighty mess) and watching Film 2009 while wearing a white head sweat band a la Bjorn Borg I was struck by an epiphany: I am not very grown up.

Being grown up is getting up and having something to do, every day. Whether that's paying your mortgage or wiping your kid's backside. It's not responsibility, I am reasonably responsible. It's having a purpose. I have spent many idle days content with not pursuing any kind of purpose. In fact, I love it.

I used to be petrified of growing up, to the point where it kept me awake at night, but a close friend in her late 30s put my mind at rest by saying "Gemma, the secret is, you never grow up. I haven't."

I still dance around in my front room when nobody else is there. I also eat Party Rings and watch cartoons in the school holidays.

Photographic evidence of sweat band wearage is here.

Lush.