Ponderings on age...

Recently I have been thinking a lot about age and what it means to be 25. I have a number of reasons to believe I am getting old, not least the fact that one of my closest friends takes the chance to call me boring at least twice every time I see him. Also there is the purchasing of the house, the 'career' (as opposed to just having a job) and the fact I think staying up till 2am is an achievement.

But let me paint you a picture of what happened this afternoon as I was driving home from work. I am fully resigned to the fact I prefer radio 2 with breakfast. I'm OK with this - Chris Evans is funny and radio 1 replaced one obnoxious DJ with another. So, with my phone still at home in a bowl of rice I was forced to listen to the radio on the way home too. Radio 2 was still on from the morning, and it was Patrick Keilty. He introduced Daft Punk like this

"Here is what the kids are listening to these days, apparently. It's about playing poker - staying up all night to get lucky"

I laughed out loud alone in the car, and then I stopped mid-giggle. Oh hell, I am not supposed to find that funny. And yet it made me laugh. I often feel like the oldest person in the room (even older than the boss). I find I can't help myself doing the dished when friends are round because I hate a messy kitchen, and I'm ushering people out the door at 11 because I have to get up for work in the morning. And I can't decide how I feel about this.

On the one hand I am happy. I love my home, I enjoy my job and I'm fairly happy with my life. I have no major problems to worry about. And yet I can't help but dread what future Fiona will think of the choices I have made. When I am 40 will I be glad I chose to buy a house aged 25, and that I built a decent foundation and I took the sensible options? Or will I just regret I didn't party every night, live at home longer, go on big holidays and generally live it up when I could? Am I growing up too fast?

And does anyone ever know the answer to that question before they are 40?

1 month on.

So, it's been one month since we moved into our house and so much has happened.

The house warming was the best we have ever had. The weather was perfect and we had the first trial of Dionysus bars. This turned out to be a terrible idea. Thank you for coming if you were there, but I have forgotten. I have forgotten almost the whole night. I was looking at photos days later trying to figure out what we had been doing and, to be honest I'm still not sure.

The day after I wrote up with a start at half 6 when I realised Joni wasnt in the bed. I went on a search of the whole house and found him in a tent, in the garden, with Tim & Stee. No one can figure out why this seemed like a good idea, but they really regretted it when Charlotte and I started banging plans together by their heads! I was still drunk at that point. It didn't last.....

The Sunday that followed was the worst hangover day of all time. 4 people spent the entire day sitting in the dark, groaning slightly and failing to eat. Tim fell asleep on his knees, Joni had to be put to bed in the middle of the afternoon and Stee refused to leave the house when we finally worked our selves up to a walk and MacDs at 7pm. I think we are getting old.

The next day we discovered 11 cans of out of date beer, and being good people we decided to recycle the cans. After playing beer bowling with them. We also went to next doors BBQ party and meet all the neighbours. That was fun, I've never met neighbours before. Not heard from them since though, I was still fairly hungover......

Since that weekend we have had a couple of BBQs, had friends round and started gardening, so all petty business as usual. I have started decorating because I am having a little trouble settling into this house. It doesn't really feel like home yet, but I think that might just be because its so unreal. It's all happened so quickly, and also we realised we have mostly bought a house because people said we couldn't. That's a good reason, right?