It appears I may have started to get old, not old as in stooped and hunched and best friends with the commode but the growing up kind of old. First my best friend's little sister went and rather selfishly turned thirty, reminding me that I must be way over that, and now she's gone and gotten engaged. Engaged! To a real person and everything. She's even having a hen night, one to which I've been invited. I was quite chuffed actually, who wouldn't be? Until she let it be known that they thought a few oldies would help keep everyone in line during the drinking games. Drinking games? Surely she's too young?
Last time I saw her she was even discussing kids, much to my horror, I reminded her that she was expected to keep chaste until her wedding night, just as I and Husband had done. The fact that Isla was born three months after our wedding was a small aberration, Isla was one of those quick growing babies, My Mother was dead impressed, she even called the local paper.
Anyway, secondly, I went to my younger brother's leaving do on Saturday night, he's moving to LA with absolutely no thought as to where I'm going to find a replacement Younger Brother (the position is up for grabs if any of you want to apply, must babysit/wash regularly/be more inhibited when discussing his admittedly impressive love life, if I'm going to hire a new one we might as well go for some improvements).
This party was one of those all dayer things: lunch followed by drinking through until closing then attempting to bribe the barman on bended knees for a lock in (if any police officers are reading this, he said no). Obviously because I am now a Grown Up I couldn't go until the evening due to having Responsibilities. I'd missed lunch but sensibly ate a large carbohydrate dinner just before leaving, we wouldn't like to be drunk in front of the babysitter would we? I then proceeded to drink my body weight in wine (some things qualify as Grown Up even if it doesn't sound too mature) and chatter and laugh in a seemly and discreet manner.
It was about this time that I had my big growing up realisation. You see, I went to the toilet and there was no toilet paper. The old, immature, more drunken me would have yelled into the next cubicle to see if the other toilet user had any, the kindly user would then pass some under the door and we'd have a little drunken bonding session about tissue and pubs (you read that right) and all manner of interesting things. We'd then both exit our toilets and smile in an embarrassed manner because we knew we'd heard the other one wee and now we didn't know what to say to each other. But it would have been fun, and an interesting diversion.
But I was denied all this because I had a little packet of tissues in my handbag, you know, just in case. And that's when it hit me, I'm a grown up, a sensible, tissue carrying, proper contraception using, wine sipping, non shot gulping, going to a best friend's little sister's hen night as an oldie, grown up. Dammit. There's only one more place for me to go before the grave now, I get to turn into My Mother.
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