Flying the Nest

Flying the Nest, posted with vodpod

As thousands of young people prepare to fly the nest for university this week, a new study by Endsleigh, has revealed an emerging generation of internet-savvy students and midlife parents is significantly changing the way families are now keeping in touch.

According to the study, parents rely heavily on social media platforms like Facebook to keep tabs on their children once they’ve left home, with 75% admitting to regularly checking their profiles to see what they’ve been up to. However interestingly, only 36% of the 18-25 year olds surveyed are actually friends with their parents on Facebook and almost three quarters (72%) deliberately choose not to be as they do not want their parents seeing personal pictures and messages.

The study also shows that 72% of 18-25 year olds who have left home now use the internet to communicate with their parents – 36% via email, 23% use social media and 13% Skype.  Mobile phones are almost as popular to keep in touch, with 70% using their handsets to call home and 60% to send text messages to their parents.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, only 7% of young people use post to keep in touch with their parents, which has reduced considerably from previous generations – 25% of 45+ year old midlife parents surveyed in the same study used post to stay in touch with their parents when they first left home.

When it comes to working out how to do basic household tasks, young people are becoming increasingly independent and self-reliant, with 44% of 18-25 year olds choosing to use self-help websites such as YouTube or VideoJug to find out how to boil an egg, work a washing machine or iron a shirt, compared to only 20% contacting home.

However despite the rise in usage of the internet and social media, young people are getting more homesick than ever – 62% of the 18-25 years surveyed confessed to missing home when they first left, compared to 55% of the 45+ year olds who were asked the same question about when they first left home.

Young people still need the emotional support of parents, with 67% confessing that the main reason they contact home is for a general catch up. Surprisingly, only 13% of the young people surveyed contact home to ask for money.

Commenting on the findings, Relationship Expert Christine Webber said: “These days parents are becoming less anxious about their kids flying the nest as there are so many different ways to keep in touch, but they must be careful not to invade their privacy by checking up on them too much. However it seems nothing can replace the comfort of the human voice, which is why so many students still need to ring home for a regular catch up.”

Aaron Porter, NUS President, added, “Students are becoming increasingly self-reliant and their faithful laptop has played a massive role in this, almost becoming a surrogate parent as they use it to keep in touch, share information and find out how to do things. However, parents can still play an important role by ensuring that things like anti-virus software and insurance is covered. Many students would feel as if they had lost their right arm if their laptop was lost or stolen so setting up insurance means one less thing to worry about.”

Endsleigh’s student possession report published last month revealed that every student surveyed returning to university for the start of the new term will be taking either a laptop (94%) or a desktop computer (6%) with them. The same study also showed that today’s students carry over £1,300 worth of goods on them on their person around town and campus.

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In celebration of friendship, oh, and birthdays

This week saw yet another birthday come and go; in fact two birthdays.

The events warranted a girls’ night out of course.  It’s become something of a tradition over the years.  When one of us has a birthday, the birthday girl gets to choose the activity or restaurant for the evening, and everyone else pays for the treat. So on Wednesday evening seven of us gathered at our local Prezzo restaurant for a few hours of silliness and stuffing our faces.

The age of these lovely midlife women ranges from 46 to 57, and we’ve known one another for more than 20 years.  Initially the link between us was our children; they all went to the same kindergarten and small village primary school.  Over the years, we’ve become firm friends, and spent time together doing some amazing things.  Not too many years ago our entire families used to get together for parties at Christmas and New Year; we’d have barbecues and day trips in the summer.

Most of us have grown up children now, and jobs and businesses to attend to.  Some of us have grandchildren. There are a couple of friends who no longer join us, and there’s a couple we’ve gathered along the way.  Our lives have changed in ways that none of us could have foreseen 20 years ago; we’re also a diverse group of characters, but come what may, the bond between us has grown stronger and stronger.  These wonderful ladies are quite simply “family” to me.

The thing that prompts me to write this post is the photograph that was taken this week.  It occurred to me that there has never been a time when we’ve managed to capture on camera the entire group of us.  Either someone can’t make it to a get together or one of us is actually steering the camera.  This time we grabbed a passing waitress and asked her to take the shot.  It’s not a particularly good quality image, but we are all on there.

My wonderful midlife friends

So thank you to my wonderful midlife friends for a lovely evening on Wednesday; thank you for the flowers and gifts.  And paying for me to stuff my face.  Go grab a glass of something, and join me in making a toast – to friendship.  And long may we all be happy, healthy and here to celebrate many more birthdays.

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Midlife expectations too high?

Fred has always been a legend in my eyes; his restaurant is legendary too in our area.

We’ve been eating there for more than 30 years on and off.  And last night’s visit was a bit special for us, because we took our two daughters along with us for the first time to celebrate my birthday.  I know, I know, I’m also not sure why they’ve never been with us before to this amazing restaurant; they’ve been almost everywhere else we’ve ever frequented.

The same staff have served us all these years; Fred is obviously a very nice guy to work for.  Decor is attractive; food is excellent.  Well, usually.  But not last night.  Out of the four meals we ordered, three were deemed to be less than great.  What a disappointment.  Gutted.  Girls are now wondering why we kept harping on about Fred’s for all those years.

Well, we’ll not be harping on about it any more.  We do eat out quite often; we like good food.  It occurs to me this morning, however, that maybe our midlife expectations are set a little too high, bearing in mind that we are in the middle of a recession.  Perhaps restaurants are having to cut corners a little or a lot just to survive.

On the other hand though, surely a recession is precisely the time to go the extra mile, and satisfy customers’ expectations.  And more besides.  I’m sure we are no different from most other families in that we expect value for our hard-earned money, and only the best will do.  It’s not as if a birthday meal can be repeated the following night, now can it?

Did you voice your opinion, I hear you ask.  No, we did not.  Normally we would have, but Fred himself was absent.  He’s gone overseas to visit family.  We will, however, make an effort to chat to him once he’s back from his travels.  And will we give Fred the opportunity of having another bite of our eating out budget?  Probably, but not for a while.  Will I lower my midlife expectations?  I don’t think so.  Unfortunately for Fred, we live in a world where nothing is indispensable – and there are plenty more restaurants where Fred’s came from.

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Midlife woman “glutened”

Have been feeling a little off-colour this last week or so.  And then last night and today the full-on symptoms kicked in.   Good and proper.

As a midlife woman with coeliac disease ingesting gluten in any quantity at all is a big mistake.  It’s about five years now since I went through the unpleasant process of getting diagnosed, which actually was a small price to pay for the chance to feel well again.  I quite literally leapt off the floor and hugged the consultant when he told me I had coeliac disease.  I was over the moon just to know what was making me so ill.   And I learned really fast how to live with it.  It’s sometimes a nuisance; for instance eating out does have its problems, but other than that life’s a doddle once you know you have to be forever on your guard.

You see, gluten is a tricky little monster.  It has a variety of disguises and hides itself at every opportunity, as if its sole purpose is to trip you up and catch you out.   Gluten has a habit of  making you pay it the respect that it deserves.  And I do.  Constantly.

And that’s where I’ve fallen down this last week.  A local cafe owner told me about something called spelt bread, which she uses herself.  She did not, however, I now realise, during the telling of the story, explain to me if she was full-on coeliac or merely gluten intolerant.  And there is a big difference.

Anyway, I dashed off to the recommended store to hunt down said amazing loaf of spelt bread.  Now I didn’t just buy the loaf; I closely questioned a knowledgeable staff member about the ingredients and explained that it had to be gluten-free.  She disappeared to consult with the baker and his books, and returned to tell me that the yummy looking loaf in my hand was indeed gluten free and suitable for coeliacs.  Now this loaf had no food information labelling on it, as the bread is baked in-house, which was what prompted me to ask for information in the first place.

Once home with precious loaf, my daughter (who appears to be gluten-intolerant but isn’t diagnosed as such) and I couldn’t wait to slap it on the breadboard, carve off a couple of chunks and load it up with butter and strawberry jam.  I’m salivating right now just thinking about it.  God, it was delicious.  For someone who has been searching for an adequate substitute for good old-fashioned bread for the last five years,  I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

Because I’ve got so used to not having bread on a daily basis, the loaf lasted a while.  I went for a couple of days and had none at all.  At the weekend I popped into the same supermarket and picked up another uncut one.  And yesterday lunchtime, I sat down to a plateful of my favourite lunchtime snack – beans on toast, with two thick chunky slices of the lovely stuff.

Amazing.  The aftermath was horrific.  Obviously a gluten overload.  Checking on the internet it appears that spelt is an ancient form of wheat, different from modern wheat in that it hasn’t been messed about with!  And it also seems that some people who are gluten intolerant can actually tolerate the gluten in spelt bread.  It is not, however, suitable for coeliacs under any circumstances.

Right now I hate myself for being so bloody stupid.  The internet is a fantastic source of information and one I use all the time.  Why didn’t I check this out?  Maybe I really, really wanted to think I’d finally found some marvellous tasty sandwich material.  I now realise that if spelt bread was OK for coeliacs it would be widely advertised as such and it’s not.  Although several big players in food retail have made this mistake apparently.  No excuse though.  Food manufacturers should know that they are playing with people’s health and lives.  And mine’s been messed up big time this week.  I feel like shit right now.

There’s a series of emails on their way to this particular food retailer as I’m writing, requesting that they sort out their labelling on store baked goods, and asking them to train their staff more efficiently and accurately regarding food allergies and intolerances etc.

Moral learned today: If you have a potentially serious health issue, do not take other people’s advice without first checking it out.  Big Mistake.

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New Year Resolutions

It’s that time of year again when people are harping on about how they’re resolving to improve themselves and their lives in 2010.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  Self-improvement is always a good thing.  And this particular New Year could quite easily be seen as a crucial time for personal commitment to major changes or doing something amazing; after all it is the start of a whole new decade.

Just browsing through magazines, and on the internet over the last few days, it occurs to me that many of us are likely to set ourselves unattainable targets and unrealistic goals this New Year based on what it is we think we should be trying to achieve, as dictated to us by random spoon-fed information. It also occurs to me that most of us will be setting ourselves up for a fall.  And consequent disappointment.  And ultimately feeling rubbish about ourselves.

I’m a real sucker myself for information and advice on “how to …”.  I’ve soaked up entire libraries of it over the years.  I’ve implemented some; completely dismissed most of it.  There’s no shortage of techniques one can use to achieve great things, and I don’t doubt that they will all work in their own way for different people.  Visualisation is a popular theory and if applied religiously we will get exactly what we desire.  Apparently.  This New Year I’m going to utilise fantasising, dreaming, visualisation, and developing myself a positive mantra or two, to achieve incredible things.  I reckon if I work hard enough at this then that so far elusive date with the beautiful Jude Law will actually happen.  No, not a word please … Anything is possible.  You know that.

The beautiful Jude Law

I shall also be exercising determination (that’s realistic?) in my quest to stop smoking.  I can actually visualise myself as a non-smoker as I did manage to abstain for a full three years before starting again.  This to me is a realistic goal, although there is no point in my taking advantage of the many expensive aids available to achieve a smoke-free existence, as they’ve all fallen by the wayside in previous attempts.  Point is – how much do I want to give up smoking?  Very much.  And that’s the key that will ultimately unlock the “non smoker” box for me.  How badly do I want to spend time with Jude Law?  God, that would be amazing.  But it’s not going to happen.  That bloody Sienna Miller is back in the frame now.   Be realistic Sooz, and slot in another DVD.

Getting fit absolutely has to be on my list this year.  I’m no longer a spring chicken; a midlife woman to be honest, and know that I have to work at it these days, but there’s no way I’m going to saddle myself with the obligatory gym membership.  I know that I’d start off with the best of intentions but then fail to find the time further down the line.  It’ll have to be option #2 – we’ll buy a treadmill and install it in the garage, because I know that I would definitely go for a trot in my ‘jamas at 6am before anyone else is awake.

Another resolution of mine is to spend more time with my friends, and be better at staying in touch with people. (Hold tight Bernadette, I know I’ve not replied to your recent letter; I’m not going to – I’m coming to visit you instead.)

The goals and targets I set myself for 2010 will stretch me, and at the same time they will be achievable (but not too easy), otherwise the whole exercise would be pointless.  I’ll have a few specifics.  Like breaking my current addiction to Millionaire’s Flapjack.  Mostly, though, I’m aiming to go for the general theories outlined below, all to do with ongoing development and attitude as I’m really not in favour of torturing myself unnecessarily.  Self-flagellation does not float my boat.

TEN SIMPLE TRUTHS THAT LEAD TO AN AMAZING LIFE:

1.  Say Yes to Stress

“An amazing life requires resilience.”

2.  If Not Now, When?

“An amazing life requires living in the moment.”

3.  The Light at the End of the Tunnel

“An amazing life requires optimism.”

4.  It Is What It Is

“An amazing life requires acceptance.”

5.  Laugh It Up!

“An amazing life requires humour.”

6.  Put a Spin on It

“An amazing life requires creativity.”

7.  Too Much of a Good Thing Can Be Too Much

“An amazing life requires moderation.”

8.  Just Show Up

“An amazing life requires responsibility.”

9.  But What Does It All Mean?

“An amazing life requires meaning.”

10.  Join The Party!

“An amazing life requires connection.”

These ten simple truths are the basis of one of the best books I’ve ever read –

“Life Is Short – Wear Your Party Pants”  by Loretta Laroche

Loretta Laroche's "Life Is Short, Wear Your Party Pants"

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Christmas Eve

Thought I was organised.  I’m not.  Here we are on Christmas Eve and I’m still chasing about like an idiot.  (I’m even late posting this rant online.)

I have delivered the last of the Christmas presents tonight to the friends and family members we won’t be seeing on Christmas Day.  I’m very glad to be home safely; the roads are treacherous as rain is now falling on top of the snow we’ve had lying for days.  The whole world is one huge sheet of ice.  It’s freezing hard and I’ve run out of salt for the paths.  We Brits are rubbish at coping with winter weather.

First stop tonight was at an old people’s home to visit a lovely lady who used to live along our lane.  She’s 83 years old and suffering from Alzheimers.  I first knew Auntie Dorothy 23 years ago when my elder daughter was a tiny girl.  She and her husband, Uncle Nick, befriended our family when they used to see me pushing the pram up and down our lane whilst heavily pregnant with our second child.  They are no relation whatsoever to us, yet over the years they became “family”.  Uncle Nick offered to walk the baby in the pram as I was struggling to walk properly, and that was the beginning of a beautiful and lasting friendship between our two families.

Auntie Dorothy and Uncle Nick with our children

Auntie Dorothy taught our girls to bake cakes; Uncle Nick taught them how to tend a garden, and I do believe to this day that it was because of his early lessons that our elder daughter is now a horticulturalist.  These two marvellous people had two grown up sons, but never had grandchildren, and our girls filled that gap for them to some extent.  Over the years, our families have celebrated each other through some great times and helped each other through some terrible times.  Auntie Dorothy and Uncle Nick lost their younger son to cancer when he was only 30; we lost a business and my husband lost most of his family as a result.

It’s days like today when I give thanks for the special people in my life; the ones who really make a difference.  Uncle Nick died a number of years ago and after living alone at home for many years, Auntie Dorothy now resides in an old people’s home where she is well cared for.  She recognises me when I visit after thinking for a minute or two.  What she does recall very clearly, however, are the times long ago.  She remembers the times when her own sons were small boys; she remembers the times she spent with our girls.  Somehow she focuses on the good stuff.  She seems to have forgotten the bad stuff.  Maybe that’s how Alzheimers works; I hope it is.

My grandmother with my elder daughter in 1986

Auntie Dorothy has no idea what day it is; she has no concept of time or seasons.  She doesn’t realise that it’s Christmas even though we sat right by the Christmas tree tonight.  And as it’s Christmas, a time which always makes me think of my own grandparents, as well as Auntie Dorothy and Uncle Nick, the following poem seems so appropriate.  It’s also for my own precious mother:

Look Closer

What do you see nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you look at me?
A crabbit old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes,
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply,
When you say in a loud voice, ‘I do wish you’d try’.
Who seems not to notice the things that you do
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe.
Who, quite unresisting, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill…

Is that what you’re thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
As I move at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of ten with father and mother,
Brothers and sisters, who love one another,
A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon a true lover she’ll meet.
A bride now at twenty, my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now, I have young of my own
Who need me to build a secure, happy home.

A woman of thirty my young now grow fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At forty my sons will soon all be gone,
But my man stays beside me to see I don’t mourn.
At fifty once more babies play round my knee;
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead.
I look at the future, I shudder with dread,
For my young are all busy with young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love I have known.
I’m an old woman now and nature is cruel,
Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour depart,
There’s a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells,
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I’m living and loving all over again.
I think of the years, all too few – gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, nurses, open and see,
Not a crabbit old woman, look closer – see ME.

By Phyllis McCormack

Three generations of my family

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Cure for a waggling tongue

- What do you do with your tongue when you’re at the dentist?

- What do you mean – what do I do with my tongue when I’m at the dentist?

- Well, the dentist always tells me off because my tongue waggles about.  How do you stop it waggling and getting in the way?

- Oh, I just take mine out and put it in my pocket.

- Mum, you are such an idiot!

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All I want for Christmas is …

“What do you want for Christmas?”  My husband asks me this and I ask him the same at some point each December.  And every year we have to rack our brains to come up with something we’d want / like as a gift.

We do our Christmas shopping for family and friends, sometimes with a clearly defined list, sometimes not; occasionally well in advance of the event, mostly horribly late.  And whilst trailing round the shops, and fighting through the crowds, we check out all the possible festive gifts for one another, and buy none of them.

Neither of us gets revved up over a gift boxed set of random products or a new winter sweater; but equally neither of us can come up with something that we really, really want for Christmas.  Now, this has nothing to do with a lack of imagination; more to do with the fact that there’s very little we need.  And always having one essential eye on the family bank balance generally makes those things we’d quite like to have fall into the “non-essential” category, and they tend to stay there un-purchased.

Also, being a family of makers and doers, arts and crafts have always featured strongly in our November and December leisure time; the results of which have been the most amazingly weird and wonderful Christmas gifts over the years.  Personally, I like to receive a handmade gift; it warms my heart to think of someone lovingly slaving away just to put a smile on my face.

However, when this year’s request came for my gift ideas, I decided to seriously go for it just for comic value:

1.  A January holiday, jetting off to somewhere warm, just the two of us

2.  A camera; one which zooms in and out properly and takes video footage

3.  A posh expensive dress and a pair of high heeled pointy shoes (even though they’ll make me too tall)

4.  A new car; a slinky fast sporty number to replace my battered old box on wheels

I could have gone on, plenty, really I could, but that would have been overkill.  I also know that a couple of those requests can be accommodated without too much pain.

And my husband’s response to my question, “What do you want for Christmas?”  He said the same thing he’s said for the last 30 or so years,

“I’ll have you stark naked please with a ribbon on for Christmas!”

Well, this wish has never actually been granted to him, what with small children, teenagers, grandparents and all the other manic stuff of Christmas mornings.  And no, you really shouldn’t feel sorry for the man of the house, as the only difference between his Christmas morning dream and any other ordinary morning will be the bloody bow.

However, after 30 years of him first asking for me naked with a ribbon on for Christmas, and me never quite managing to get it all wrapped up beautifully and presented properly for first thing Christmas Day, I’ve decided that this year, my lovely midlife husband will get his wish.  We have no small children to attend to these days; there’ll be no pressure to perform (Oh God).

I will, of course, make sure he also has a gift or two tucked under the tree for later, even though we both know that the best things in life really are for free.  My only worry is, what will he ask for next year?

I'm thinking of something along the lines of the above

But suspect it'll be something like this. Oh dear!

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Taking my hat off to Julia

I had an evening out this week with an old friend I’ve not seen for ages; it was hugely enjoyable.

We drove out to a small village pub a few miles away to sample their lovely home-cooked food and have a couple of drinks.  The place was full of people having Christmas parties, with paper hats, crackers and all the festive paraphernalia.  We managed to get a table in a cosy corner right by the open log fire and got down to some long overdue catching up.

My friend has been on her own for the last six years, since her now ex husband traded her in for a younger model.  Have to say, Julia was looking great.

I also have to say that six years on from the most traumatic period of her life, my midlife friend has things pretty much sorted.  Yes, she struggles financially even though she has a full-time job.  Yes, she has had to take on endless new responsibilities.  But aside from all the obvious problems of being on her own after a being in a long marriage, she’s a whole new woman.  The Julia I knew long ago was always assertive to an extent; she ran her own successful business for many years.  But the new Julia makes the old Julia look like a mere shadow.

Julia is in her mid fifties; her attitude to life is that of someone 20 years younger.  “Young at heart” is a good description.

She told me of her trip to Hungary to get her teeth fixed; she went there because it cost less than having the treatment in the UK.  It involved three trips, and she travelled alone for two of them.  Whilst there, she visited the sights of Budapest, enjoyed the luxurious spa waters in the city, stayed in a good hotel and ate out.  All alone.  And she was happy with that.

This last summer Julia went on a camping trip with her two grown up children; camping would not normally be Julia’s thing.  The three of them and Julia’s dog stayed in a large old tent usually used by the kids for music festivals, so it’s well-used to say the least.  And the camping pitch they had in Cornwall was on a serious slope (they were late booking!), the result of which found Julia waking up each morning in a bundle several feet from where she started out as she’d slipped down the slope during the night.  They had breakdowns with the old car they were travelling in, requiring a new clutch cable and new wheel bearings just to keep them on the road.  All of this she thought amusing, although when her son suggested whilst driving home that they repeat the trip next year, she told him, “Over my dead body!”

There were other very funny tales to tell that evening and I came away with panda eyes from my mascara running down my face.  Inevitably, some of the jokes were at the expense of her ex husband, who incidentally is on to his third relationship since the split from Julia.  “He’s obviously having a hard time finding a good replacement!” was what she said with a grin.

Julia is more confident and happier in her own skin than ever before.  She’s thinking of re-starting her business on a part-time basis.  She’s thinking of the future; she feels that a new man would be quite nice, although she’s not sure where to find one.  She was hoping I could perhaps supply her with one, but I don’t know of any going spare right now.  She also knows that a new relationship could work now that she’s recovered and found fresh confidence; any sooner would probably have spelled disaster.

I’m loving that new sparkle she has in her eyes.  I admire her “young at heart” approach to life.  I adore that she can swear creatively, laugh and joke around and look to the future with joy.  I’m completely and properly taking my hat off to Julia.

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Christmas Party? Sorry, can’t make it.

We’ve decided to organise a Christmas party.

It’s a while since we threw a proper Christmas bash for family and friends.  Now, I know that we’ve left it a little late, to book a venue, sort out food and so on.  However, I have found a lovely room, and the owners will cater if required.  They also provide overnight accommodation for anyone too pickled to make it home afterwards. So ..  this knees-up will be taking place on Monday 21^st December at 7.30pm.

All of that was amazingly easy to arrange; done within 24 hours of the first party thought crossing my mind.

Phone calls and emails swiftly followed; invitations were extended.

A week later it occurs to me that I may have been over-ambitious; I think I may have got a little carried away with the thought of spending a few pleasurable festive fun-filled hours in the company of my nearest and dearest.  It seems that not everyone has the same enthusiasm as me.

I’m well aware that 21^st December is very close to Christmas, and people will obviously be busy with their own preparations and events.  I also know that many folk will have to get up the following morning and go to work.  I also definitely know for sure that if a friend was to call our house and invite us to a completely free festive bash, we’d be there like a shot, especially during Christmas week – what a great way to get the festivities started.

I should point out that the lack of enthusiasm I’m talking about emanates in the main from our midlife friends.  Our daughter has had a completely different response from the young livelies she’s asked along, and some of them will have to travel half way across the country to join us.  And that’s the difference.  Young people are keen to get involved in anything that promises to be fun, regardless of undertaking long, expensive train journeys, sleeping on someone’s floor or dragging themselves to work bleary eyed after a night out.

Guys looking lively at a 50th birthday party!

Middle aged people, on the other hand, are not so keen it seems.  Maybe midlifers are just too tired.  Maybe midlifers are sick to death of Christmas; after all we’ve done a good number of them.  It’s completely plausible that my midlife friends are struggling to find that elusive “Christmas spirit” in the midst of this bloody awful recession.  Or maybe their partying days are just, well .. over.

Me thinks not.  Me thinks that lack of confidence is a primary factor; laziness is another.  It’s easier to not do something than to do it.  Comfort zone shrinkage is a common affliction amongst the middle aged; I witness it every day in the people I know.  I have to concede ultimately, however, that it’s possible I’m way off the mark with my entire way of thinking.  Perhaps it’s just me.

Regardless of the midlife reluctance vibes coming my way, and I will waste no more time considering them, we are going to have a lovely evening in the company of like-minded people who love a good old knees-up.  Even if it means holding a recruitment day at the local college.

"The music's playing, but I'll be buggered if I'm getting up to dance."

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