Growing up

I am trying to be a grown up. I am trying to get into the habit of washing my clothes regularly, to keep on top of the problem rather than waiting until I physically can't force any more clothes into the laundry basket before I succumb. I now have a skin care regime, I go to the gym regularly, I clean saucepans before the foodstuff gets welded to the metal through days of neglect. I dust, I clean, I turn my mattress over bi-monthly and moisturise my leather sofa once every six month to prevent cracking. I file away bills between metal dividers and have learned how to iron my shirt.

Half the time I feel great to have entered this hallowed arena of adulthood, to breath the rarefied air reserved for mature lungs. The rest of the time I want to jump over picnic tables, stay up all night watching rubbish 80s horror films, create magazine montages on my walls and cook melted cheese and salsa nachos in the microwave. Because this month I turn 26 and I can no longer pretend I'm nearer 20 than 30. Simple maths will prove me wrong, 2010 looms like a thunder cloud on the horizon and it's so close now I can see the electric blue veins snaking across its underbelly. I mean how did this happen? One minute your dressed as the killer from Scream and filming an alternate version of the music video for B*witched's 'C'est La Vie', the next you've got a staff of three and a stack of appraisals to do. It seems like only yesterday we dressed Milner up as an Egyptian mummy and made him return 'The Mummy Returns' to Blockbuster video.

But you know what the saddest thing on the planet is? Someone trying to regain former glories, people who live in the past rather than the present. I guess I need to look forward to the second half of my twenties and take the decision to make them even better than the first half.

At least my clothes will smell better.