This time next week I will be staring thirty in the face.

I turn thirty years old next Wednesday. Up until recently, I was “going under” (to use my northern husband’s expression) about this fact. I was going under about not being in my twenties any more. I was going under about being old. I was going under about not having achieved things that I thought I should achieve by the age of thirty.

But, most of all, I was going under about the idea of thirty itself.

When you’re thirty you can no longer pretend an air of youth by saying “I’m in my twenties”. Thirty sounds grown-up. Sensible. Not me.  Continue reading »