An older, wiser me?

I am officially one year older as of yesterday. That's right, I am no longer in my mid 20's (24,25 and 26) - I am now in my late 20's, pushing 30. Twenty seven. It sounds even older when I write it out in letters. I think it's quite sad that once you turn 21, birthdays are no longer the source of excitement they used to be. When you're a teenager, you can't wait to hit your 20's so you can be treated like the adult you know you are (somewhere a parent rolls their eyes in disgust). When you turn 21, you've finally reached the pinnacle of the aging process. You're an adult in the eyes of the law, and you can really do whatever you want (as long as it's not under your parents' roof). Thereafter, birthdays are merely pinpoints on a downhill slide marking the speed of passing time. And I can't get over how frikking fast that time is going!??!!? I've been in London for a year and a half already, and before I know it, 4 years will be up and I'll be on my way home again - on the wrong side of 30. However, I hear that 30 is the new 20, so perhaps life will just begin then, who knows? Of course, this increases for each decade you age, so Mom and Dad, how is the new 40?

We celebrated in true South African style - cheddamelt burgers at the spur in Wandsworth. I have finally satisfied the craving that has had me dreaming of a conveyor belt of cows being fed through a magic machine and conveniently coming out as ready-to-eat burgers on the other side (none of the truth for me, thank you, I enjoy my vacuum of ignorance). They're not quite the same as burgers in SA spurs, but close enough to be most welcome. I think it's the basting - they don't put quite enough paint stripping coke in it. I had the most wonderful birthday present as well on our way there.... we stopped in the Reef Cafe at Waterloo station for a drink (waiting for people, not because we couldn't make the train ride without a pint) and when I went up to buy a round, I got asked for ID! Now, in the UK, they're pretty strict with underage drinking (I know, it sounds a bit laughable considering the state of their youth, but at least they're trying). Although the legal drinking age is 18, if you look under 21, you get carded. So the barlady asked me, and I crowed with delight, explaining that it was actually my 27th birthday, and this was possibly the best present I could ever receive. She responded that I looked 16. I was then unsure whether I should be even more stoked about the situation, or if I should suggest an eye test. I rummaged through my wallet for my driver's, and failed to find it... it took a few rounds through Shoes' wallet before it was located, durung which time I started to realize that maybe it wasn't quite as cool a situation as I'd originally thought. If I hadn't produced any ID, she would not have served me at all, and how do you tell people that you can't buy your own drinks on your 27th birthday? So this whole looking young thing is definitely a double edged sword. I'd like to look a firm 22 - that should do the trick.

Anyway, my day was fabulous, as my birthdays always are. I dread them for weeks in advance, knowing that it's just another year I will never see again, but on the day, I always feel so fussed over and special - really, I get a new I'm-the-centre-of-everyone-else's-world complex to add to my CEO complex. We're racking them up here! Sorry, I am - I'm not quite the Queen - yet.

I was off as well, which was such a bonus. I'm still off today actually - the temp position that was supposed to start today has been postponed to probably Tuesday, as the line manager is very sick (needs a long weekend). On my way to my interview on Wednesday, I came across a hair salon in Covent Garden that was advertising for hair models in its window. I went inside and applied, and it's obviously fate that I'm not working on Monday now, because I am going to have a cut and highlights for free, as someone's hair model! I realize this has the potential to be disasterous, but they are supervised (I hope), and besides, they have to make me happy with the final result before they kick me out, right?

This weekend should be a nice chilled one.... tomorrow I am going to my first RSPCA event as a volunteer, which I'm really looking forward to; and then I'll be coming back to join the crowd as we watch the Proteas moer the Aussies - touch wood. 438 anyone?