Humour of the situation

‘young and sweet, only seventeen’ Abba – Dancing Queen

I am told, from time to time, that to be thought of as younger than I really am is a compliment. Yet if someone thought I was immature and acting like a child, that wouldn’t be a compliment that would be an insult. But appparently, when I get asked to produce ID in order to buy alcohol, that is a compliment. Not any more.

I’m sorry, but I can’t see how someone thinking I am seven years younger than I actually am is a compliment. Am I to take this that I have a childlike, babyish face? It certainly isn’t saying anything about how good looking someone thinks I am. They are implying that I am immature and can’t be trusted with half a shandy. Which is exactly what I got today when we decided to go to lunch in one of our usual haunts in West Jesmond. I avoid Osborne Road at all costs, as it is always full of students, underage kids and the like. Instead we stick to the pub by the metro station, a pub I, until recently, visited weekly for quiz night. So when I ordered two pints and a shandy I didn’t expect to be asked to produce proof that I was old enough to drink. But I was, to which I laughed and questioned the seriousness of the question. Apparently she was deadly serious, and as I was still eating my lunch I couldn’t be arsed to make a fuss and risk being chucked out, so I turned away saying I’d get someone else to get my drinks for me instead, which she seemed fine about.

My companions; Duncan, Rich and Mary thought I should be happy that someone mistook me for a 17 year old, but frankly I find it humiliating that I can’t buy the drinks in my usual pub. I don’t want to be thought of as 17 anyway, I survived my teenage years and think I should be treated like a proper bloody adult these days.

We received a text message from Phil’s brother last night. Apparently he flies into the UK on Tuesday and thinks he is staying at our flat until he gets himself sorted out. Nice to be told eh? Phil mentioned this when we were out in SA, but as Andrew (his brother) never bothered to come and see us whilst we were there, and no more has been said since, we assumed that all had been forgotten. Not so. He arrives on Tuesday and wants us to meet him, although he didn’t say where or when. I know England is a smallish place, but even Heathrow is a good few hours away. Hopefully he won’t be here too long. We think we might have already found an empty room in shared house for him, so he should be able to move in before we go to Scotland for the weekend at the end of the month. I’m not prepared for visitors who may stay indefinitely, I have no food for a start.

We are off to see Green Day tomorrow night, even though it will be full of 15 year olds bouncing around and thinking we are too old to be there. I last saw Green Day in 1995 at Reading and they were awesome then, I can only hope that tomorrow is just as good and that No Doubt (the support act) don’t spoil it by playing loads of their new stuff which I don’t rate at all.

Until there is a next time…

xx