BA40

So, being forty then. What was I worried about? It's fine. I've not suddenly gone all uncool, started eating Werther's Originals, stopped liking loud music or moaning about aches and pains. In fact, seven weeks in, I think forty suits me quite well. It means I can now go "Of course I don't know who Jessie J is, I'm forty for God's sake" or "I'm a little bit past all that, I'm forty for God's sake!" or "Of course you won't remember the YTS/not having a mobile phone/having to do a paper round/Margaret Thatcher/John Major/Tony Blair, because you're an embryo and I'm forty." It's also great fun to say to your friends who haven't reached forty yet "Make the most of this year, after your 39th birthday it's the quickest year you'll ever know. Can you hear that clock ticking? 'tick tock tick tock tick tock' is how it goes. Can you hear it? 'Tick tock tick tock tick tock.'" Yes, I am a pain in the arse, aren't I?
Besides, I often think that getting older will suit me as I'm quite looking forward to being one of those old gits who makes out they're 'a little bit deaf'. Deaf enough to be able to hear "Would you like a cup of tea and a biscuit?" but deaf enough not to hear "Would you like to come and help with the washing-up?" Hoo-hoo, I can't wait for all that. I'll have the time of my life.
What I do find about reaching this age is that other people of a similar age without kids suddenly want to come on holiday with you. As though we've all got to huddle together for warmth from the Parent Mafia. I don't care whether you have kids or not, I'm telling you now, I DON'T want to go on holiday with you. Holidays are a little bit like Christmas Day: spending them with other people is weird. Everyone has their own traditions and customs, like eating pork pie for breakfast or making up their own rules to Monopoly. I don't want to go to the bloody pub with you every night that we're on holiday. Or go to that nice place where you and Clive went last year. Or have a cream tea at the place that you can't find but you know it's down this lane somewhere. Or listen to you two shagging. Okay? I'm not going on holiday with you.
I've had this "Hey you should come on holiday with us!" thing twice in the past few weeks. The latest coming from a very good friend who is forty next year along with his wife. Their big idea is that they hire a castle and loads of us all go for the week. No, no, NO! I refuse! For a start there'll be loads of people I don't know, there'll be enforced jollity and his wife gets on my wick after a couple of hours (They've been together for well over ten years and are entirely wrapped up in each other still. Which is nice, it must have been kismet or something. Yeah, there you go you see, I'm still an old romantic really). Besides which, I'm intimidated by her breasts.

So yeah, I'm really chilled now I've got to forty. Can you tell..?