We are heading out this evening for a meal at the local pub with friends – to celebrate my other half’s birthday. Escaping for a few hours of sensible conversation with grown-ups. Except we know that’s not true, don’t we.
I wonder how long it will take the children to figure out that we are only sensible when they are within shouting distance? When left to my own devices – particularly when paired with good friends – I naturally transmogrify back towards my real self. I suspect most people do.
Of course it’s not quite the real self that existed before kids and cars and houses and every other millstone that has dragged behind me for the last however many years – but I like to think it is.
I read a newspaper story recently about a man that faked his identity, became a student, and went back to college – ten years after he originally left. Nobody found out until years later.
It’s appealing in a strange sort of way – the conceit of going back in time, but carrying the knowledge, skills, and experience you have with you. I suppose it’s a bit like time travel. I’m not so sure it’s such a great idea though – while the academic side of life would become a walk in the park, having you spent any time with teenagers?
They. Never. Stop. Talking.
Seriously. And the drama. Oh my word the drama. And the 24/7 availability for interaction on “Insta”, or “WhatsApp”, or whatever the hell other mobile app you might use to prettify, distort, or instantly cosplay yourself.
We are escaping to the pub for a few hours. A few hours with good friends, a drink of something vaguely anaesthetic, and a belly full of stodgy food. We can’t afford to do it often, but today seems like as good an excuse as any.