On Sunday I turned 26 – a sadly unavoidable chronological event that, admittedly, I was putting off mentally for as long as possible. Having reached this grand old age however – as with previous birthdays, I feel relatively unchanged – albiet a little wiser after trapping my hair in the car door this morning, rendering me without head movement until I reached a set of traffic lights. Being 26 therefore has so far taught me:
a) Don’t panic when experiencing restrictive head movement whilst driving an automobile. This can lead to the accidental pushing of buttons on your steering wheel and your radio will set itself to Rude Boy FM- ‘the indecipherable music mix’.
b) People will not come running to help you out of your predicament if you are shouting in a car on your own. No one can hear you. Instead people willl think you are either mad or suffering from a sort of travel induced turrets and will try to avoid you by overtaking, or will keep at a safe distance to your rear.
c) Shut car doors with caution in blustery conditions.
This slightly traumatic event aside (I still have an unusual kink on the right hand side of my barnet), becoming 26 was a delightful event that I managed to arrange over a long weekend. The frivolities began on Saturday with a meal and a trip to the theatre, which once again tested my friendship with a dear companion whom I seem to personally (and quite accidentally) terrorise on each of the outings I plan. So far I have confirmed for her she is afraid of heights, does not like ghost stories, the smell of a pork sandwich turns her stomach, and she is particularly terrified by plays where there are moments of darkness, loud noises and a horror plot. I can only apologise, although next time I may test her squimish tendencies and arrange an appointment to donate blood…
Sunday – ‘the actual day’ of my birth was equally lovely with a superb lunch in a favourite pub and a stroll about the village of Goring which is (as family history and my frequency of visits would have it) officially home as far as I’m concerned. The day ended as well as it began with nibbles, friends, family and an extrodinary amount of my Mum’s delicious carrot cake – something that one doesn’t mind getting older for!
On Monday Neil and I ventured to Southampton, where (and no doubt he will give a more detailed account) we looked to purchase a swanky new wagon. A deal struck beforehand also meant I was allowed a visit to Mottisfont Abbey near Romsey, an extremely pleasant place with a stream full of large trout, a restaurant that serves a hearty creamy chickeny potatoey lunch, and was occupied by staff with a penchant for naming their cars (it is only at the National Trust you find these people. I admit to being one of them).
So indeed, I may now be 4 years away from the big ’30’, but if the moment occurs in as much style as being 26 did – I say bring it on!
I just may need more carot cake in condolence.
Photographs of the weekends events will shortly be available to view on the ALBD gallery.