When I Grow Up

Hmmm...

I'm convinced that one's twenties are the best time of one's life. In fact, I have decided that 30 will not signify the beginning of the Big Wind Down for me, as I must have decided it would, subconsciously, years ago. Approaching Thirty has been a big thing for me. I have felt on the verge of Thirty since I turned twenty. I realized one day that the boundary of Thirty was something I had invented myself, albeit unwittingly; an invisible obstacle in the way of eternal youth. While I don't kid myself that youth is eternal, I have consciously decided that my thirties will be just as fun and rewarding as my twenties...

Seems Gem is satisfied with her age.

Not me: I won't be satisfied until I'm an old curmudgeon. When I grow up, I want to be 85 years and 26 days old. Then I will have achieved my life's ambition. On that day, I intend to do three things:

1) Fire off an irascible letter to the editor of the Sydney Morning Herald, bemoaning the state of Today's Youth and lamenting the decline of our Once Great Western Civilization;

2) Listen to On Wenlock Edge by Ralph Vaughan Williams, while drinking gin and tonic, with a tear running down my face;

3) Seek out the abode of Dame Edna Everage and stand below her window, reading Alexander Pope until she agrees to marry me.

On the following day, my aim attained, I shall suffer a massive cardiac arrest and expire.

It is a dream I have.