To my sisters...thanks.

At about 16 years old I decided not to eat meat; I also decided not to drink tea, coffee, alcohol. All through my student years I was fairly evangelical about all this. I don't remember all my motivations, I have a fairly strong sense that I may have embraced this hipster-way-before-millennials lifestyle as a reaction to the conformity I struggled to meet.  I wasn't beautiful, so I was unconventional.

These days I am not as strict with myself. I found I could like coffee, I trained myself to like it after I had children and needed some artificial stimulus, in fact, since having children I have developed an ability to sleep at almost any time, just by sitting down. Saturday morning kids' cinema is a particular favourite. This hasn't yet proved a problem, as most of the time I don't sit down. 

I have a small suspicion that there may another reason. I never had my ears pierced, somehow I know- even now, that one hole in each ear would not satisfy - would two, three?  Perhaps I knew it's all or nothing, I'll find another way of being unconventional. 

I am worried at the moment. Everyone is right? Brexit, the recent school shooting in America, our local libraries closing, the factory in our village expanding, the council running out of money. Things aren't really getting worse, I am realistic enough to realise this. Life seems hard in our middle age as our responsibility increases. Our wages have to pay for our current existence - our increasing council tax and mortgage, the price of food going up every month, fuel continuing to increase at the petrol pumps; but also our future; our pensions, our lack of job security, our children's potential university fees. But then there is also the future of others that we will have to pay for; what if our children can't buy house? What if our parents have to sell their houses to pay for social care? We are responsible for our lives and the happiness of all those around us. 

I pour a glass of wine that I'm not used to and mostly fall asleep - thank goodness.  After 12 years of being able to sleep whenever I could, I am starting to wake at 4:30 each day. So anxious am I about waking up late or sleeping through the alarm, or pressing the snooze button one more time, that I wake myself up after a disturbed night of anxiety dreams. If I wasn't so tired, perhaps I would drink another glass, or finish the bottle, because then I might sleep or at least be able to ignore all of these thoughts weighing so heavily on my narrow shoulders. 

Last night, I nearly forgot a whatsapp invitation, nearly ignored an evening at a friend's. I nearly couldn't be bothered to re do my eye make up, brush my hair and change out of work clothes. But of course I didn't have to. All I had to was leave the house - quite a big deal in itself, to a group of girls who don't care about my make up or hair. And today out for lunch with my lunch ladies. And last week for afternoon tea with my scone sisters. I feel better and less like finishing the bottle I opened. I don't need to moan or whinge (but I do a bit) but the giggles and the prosecco, the swearing and gossip, the philosophy and shared history is enough keep me going for another week.