I started writing one of my typical chatty blog posts today that was taking a lot of thought and was having me delving a bit deeper to come up with something that would make people think – but then I decided I really couldn’t be bothered. I’ve had a long week – from Christmas parties, to too much prosecco, late nights, early starts, prepping for meetings, the jingle bell ball and remote weekend work… the list in endless. Things aren’t about to slow down either – tomorrow I fly off to Sweden for two days, we still have meeting materials to prep, and I have two more Christmas parties – I’m already tired and it hasn’t even started yet. It’s safe to say I am stone cold exhausted, and if it was up to me I would’ve spent the entire day sleeping and waking up only to order Deliveroo to my room.
I’m back in my family home for the weekend (in my lovely home town of London/Kent, nobody really knows…), and whenever I’m back here I feel like I’ve been transported back to Sixth Form. I remember being in Sixth Form and absolutely itching for freedom and adulthood – no tellings off, no curfews, no having to get permission to go wherever or do whatever – absolute freedom. I think it hit me when I was walking home that only c.4 years on, I’m exactly in the place I was itching to be. I’m a fully grown adult – I pay taxes, I rent, I don’t get an allowance from my parents and I’m in a three year relationship – when did this happen?! Memories of being out late and worried about getting told off, or being scared I wouldn’t get permission to go to a party, are so long gone that I don’t really remember what they feel like. I’ve… made it? Well, maybe not.