Kill me now.
Please.
So anyway. We were in the pub today, which is normal for a Saturday. We take the papers and eat pub food and drink beer and banter with the bar staff and it's all good.
Except today.
Today, there's a new girl behind the bar. She's funny, and a little bit odd, and we like her. On talking, we establish that she's eighteen. Eighteen.
The conversation swung around to festivals. She went to Eastern Haze last year. I went to Glastonbury* once. We are off to Beautiful Days for our honeymoon this year.
Wow, she said. Do you have any kids?
Um, yes. I have one...
Oh, that's so cool. I wish you were my parents.
Oh.
Thanks for that. Thanks for the realisation that I am old enough to have an eighteen year old child. Thanks for relegating me to the ranks of oh-but-you're-cool-even-though-you're-old. I mean, I'm flattered and all, but really? I could have done without it.
I suppose my enthusiastic double-thumbs-up when Girls Aloud came on the jukebox didn't help. Much.
Gah.
* Please don't call it "Glasto". Please? It makes me want to kill you. Or myself. Neither of which is good, or healthy. You know?
So anyway. We were in the pub today, which is normal for a Saturday. We take the papers and eat pub food and drink beer and banter with the bar staff and it's all good.
Except today.
Today, there's a new girl behind the bar. She's funny, and a little bit odd, and we like her. On talking, we establish that she's eighteen. Eighteen.
The conversation swung around to festivals. She went to Eastern Haze last year. I went to Glastonbury* once. We are off to Beautiful Days for our honeymoon this year.
Wow, she said. Do you have any kids?
Um, yes. I have one...
Oh, that's so cool. I wish you were my parents.
Oh.
Thanks for that. Thanks for the realisation that I am old enough to have an eighteen year old child. Thanks for relegating me to the ranks of oh-but-you're-cool-even-though-you're-old. I mean, I'm flattered and all, but really? I could have done without it.
I suppose my enthusiastic double-thumbs-up when Girls Aloud came on the jukebox didn't help. Much.
Gah.
* Please don't call it "Glasto". Please? It makes me want to kill you. Or myself. Neither of which is good, or healthy. You know?
posted by surly girl at 4:25 pm
10 Comments:
1. yay first!
2. happy belated birthday:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/hellmutt/sets/72157602655023537/detail/
3. not i gotta read the post...*slinks away to read post*
I knew I must be ancient - well, I was about thirty. I saw someone who was in my year at school on a bus with a young, nice looking mixed race lad. "Blimey, she's struck lucky! Bit young though, even by my disgusting standards!"
Then I remembered: she'd left school at fifteen when she was pregnant. The boy was her son, who now also fifteen.
I felt old, disgusting and depressed.
To paraphrase one of my favorite Sex & The City episodes entitled "twentysomething girls vs. thirtysomething women:"
"Maybe twentysomething girls are clueless halfwits about to get their hearts broken for the first time and we should pity them?"
Granted, 18 is not quite twentysomething...but still. This thought helps me to sleep at night!
Ugh - I hate it when people use the word "Glasto"
Call it Glarrstonbury instead, in a thick Somerset accent.
I always think of you as my rather eccentric aunt, crocheting blankets for the missionaries in Nyasaland.
And please tell Betty that even though she is old and disgusting she shouldn't be depressed about it.
I'm resigned to being old andthe sort of person that gets chatted up by habitual drunks :(
Clearly she has NOT been reading "How to increase your tips".
Unless you have aged a lot since getting engaged, there's *no way* either of you look old enough to have an adult child.
homer, if you carry on like this you're going to find yourself in head-to-toe peach taffeta come august 9th...
Not long after I left university, I did some time as a teacher - just long enough to realise what a disaster that was! Most of the kids I taught were 11. I realised a while ago (yes, not even recently!) that they were easily old enough to be grandparents. Jeez!
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