Being 24 doesn’t feel all that wonderful ......

Well, I guess the big event of this week is was turning 24.
When you’re young, every birthday seems incredibly important, in fact, even January 24^th, my half birthday seemed a very important date when I was younger and I still can’t help but notice when it comes around.
I’ve found that when I see some of my younger cousins I wrongly expect to be forgiven for getting the age a year or two wrong, there are few more offensive comments you can say to a seven year old than accusing them of being six.
This is of course because when you’re young, being a year older makes a significant difference to your outlook. It’s something about pride I suspect – maybe it’s a result of being forced to answer the question ‘How old are you now?’ by a class of signing classmates as your teacher wandered around your classroom handing out boxes of raisins you’d brought in to celebrate. For the record, yes genuinely, that was all we were allowed to bring into school by means of celebration for our birthdays.
So, why do I say all this? Well, because I’d always thought that post 18, one would get over the feeling of significant difference from year to year… but I haven’t.
It’s hit me this week how old 24 sounds. You’ve basically hit your mid twenties and it’s time to grow up. In my mind aged 23 it’s still kind of acceptable to be finding your feet, maybe in your last year at University… but 24, seriously get on with life.
Birthdays are in theory at least, happy occasions where we celebrate rights of passage that can now befall us. At 13 it meant you can start looking at boys in a different way, at 18 it means you can drive, at 21 it means you can drink(even thou u might have experimented back in high school already), and then of course you hit the 30,40,50,60,70 to mark decades of life.
If you’re looking for a birthday card which says ‘sorry to hear you’re…’ you’ll do well to find it, but if someone gives me one ending in ’24′ this week I think I m going to smile for at this moment in time, being 24 doesn’t feel all that wonderful – certainly nowhere near as much fun as being six… or was it seven? Who cares.