Catapult 30

My other half turned thirty last week.

Unlike most turning-thirty-year-olds that I know, he didn’t have a panic to himself. He was actually pretty calm and accepting of the fact that he’s now over the hill, despite me continuing to ask him if he needed a seat/his knees were okay/he’d remembered to put his teeth in.

Amidst all the madness of planning a surprise party and trying to ready the house for guests that he didn’t know were coming, we had a wonderful wee conversation about his “Things to Do Before I’m Thirty” list.

He said he’d managed to cross most things off his list, and the things he hadn’t managed to do he wasn’t too bothered about.

I started to think about my own list, and how many things I’d managed to complete. The more I thought about it I realised that I didn’t really have a definitive list, that I tend to do things when I want to do them rather than have one big overarching BY THE TIME I’M THIRTY I’LL HAVE TAKEN OVER THE WORLD kinda list.

For example, this year I wanted to go to the Magic Kingdom and go on the Peter Pan ride.

I wanted to start writing stories (which the world will never see  for they are drivel).

I wanted to pass my driving test.

I wanted to go Sober in October in order to support Macmillan.

I wanted to spend more time doing things I chose to do, and not feeling obliged to go somewhere/do something just because “I should”.

I wanted to complete Tough Mudder.

I wanted to perform God of Carnage on stage.

I wanted to make a point of regularly seeing people I had perhaps neglected in the past.

I wanted to go to Paris and climb the Eiffel Tower… So guess how I’ll be spending my birthday this year?

I’ve completed everything on my list without ever actually meaning to.

When I was little, the idea of getting old was pretty scary. At thirty, I’d be ancient and smell faintly of wee. I’d probably live in a big ol’ empty house cos all my friends would have died of old age.

But now, at this ripe old stage in my life, I’ve realised that age isn’t scary. I know it sounds so clichéd but you genuinely are only as old as you feel.

I have no absolutely intention of becoming a responsible adult.

Sure, I’ll do all the things I need to do in order to live a comfortable life (have a job, pay the bills, keep myself healthy), but I’m going to have as much fun as possible while I’m doing it.

Don’t fall into the trap of acting like an adult because it’s what’s expected of you. Go and throw yourselves in the grass/leaves/snow/mud and roll around in it because we all know you want to.

Turn thirty or fifty or seventy, but stay young. Wear purple. Read Peter Pan over and over again.

And remember – just because you’re grown up doesn’t mean you have to be grown up.

P.S. When I do eventually turn thirty and have a meltdown, please feel free to direct me back here!