Diary of Lisa Taylor, reluctantly 42 (and a half)

Or.. 'f.ck me I'm forty.. two.. and a half', though can look 38 on a - not so deluded - good day. Or 'How to reconcile a well experienced mind trapped in a still - but for how long? – youthful body.' Don't have the 30somethings angst/problems, neither have the resigned (?) ageing baby-boomers in safe family territory outlook yet. Here's how I cope, one day all sexy women will get old... but never invisible. © Lisa Taylor 2005/6/7/8/9. Jeez.. so much for the 42 and-a-half delusion

Thursday, December 23, 2010

23 December - Death & Parties

Nobody died but nobody I know goes to parties. Our only invite this year was from the lovely and hospitable C and his family over in Shep Bush. We see them once a year. So apart from him, his brother, his wife and his lovely tall, tall kids we didn't speak to no one else. How could we? Why would we? It used to be someone caught your eye or you were told so and so would be interesting for you or vice versa and off you went. But when faced with two roomfuls of ageing middle class peeps and some of their teenage children (bribed as staff to dish out the canapes) the effort seems too much. You're not interested in who/what/why they are and neither are they. There's no one you fancy (the other big pull to talk to someone) or can fancy. Verboten. And because you knew how it would be, same as last year, you don't even make much of an effort with a super outfit. No, a middle boring will do. Why stand out?

In fact at some point Toph engaged said kids. He was talking to the youngest daughter who is tall and therefore he thought she was 15 or so but we discovered she was only 13. Clearly one talks as benevolent uncle, but you also feel a bit silly. So two hours later you escape. In the streets you see other revellers all much younger and therefore having tons of fan going out at the time you're getting into the car to go home. Where did it all go? I could cry.



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