A couple of weeks ago whilst travelling abroad, a stranger with a cheeky smile and twinkly eyes sitting next to me on the plane asked how old I was. He took me by surprise and just bluntly asked ‘how old are you then?’. I responded by asking his age. He was 11 years younger and was shocked when I admitted the number of years I’ve been inhabiting our lovely planet.
Pondering this, I find myself fully aware that in 21 months’ time I hit a big birthday. The big 5-0. How on earth did that happen? What have I done with my life? Where did the time go… and so on.
All the questions that I’m sure many people face and try to muse over. I’m not having a mid life crisis (I think possibly I’m too old for that?) so instead I’m burying my head in plans. I am busying myself thinking about the year that I turn half a century. Sending off for brochures, getting fit, working out the trips (currently three in my head), planning a party and getting excited.
Some people approach these things with dread but I am itching to celebrate half a century in style. What is age after all? Nothing to be worried about… just another number and a reason to embrace my ever increasing eccentricity.
So I intend to party til dawn, dressed to the nines and enjoy every second just like every slightly older, slightly greying and slightly bonkers woman should.
Care to join me?