torture 20 September 2009
I fell asleep while thinking about this blog last night so it’s a tad late…there was wine involved too, courtesy of a visit to Brixton to quaff and chat with my brother and sis in law. They have teenage children now and we were reminiscing on how, well, dreadful being a teenager was – I quake sometimes to remember me then (of course I THOUGHT I was great but reckon I was a pain in the butt really) and also that some people only knew me then and not since and that’s how they think I am. I’m wondering if the menopause is a similar experience – will I be all teenage and impossible again? I hear the male version of that is the andropause – anyone know when men get that? Or is it simply what the rest of us see as their mid-life crisis when they want a tattoo and a motorbike but have to settle for a fast car with back seats in case they have to collect the kids from school (and not quite the 2 seater ‘affair car’ with the retractable roof).
injury update: the small of my back looks like someone took a hammer to it – I could pass for a torture victim – splendid range of colours to the bruising and several down the right leg too…
