Remember when I dyed my hair red? Turns out I should have dyed it grey.
Because I’m starting to think I might actually be an old lady.
I’m slowly working my way through my Chick List. For those who need a recap, my list of challenges included:
- Dye my hair red
- Try a new (and preferably strange) type of exercise. Tai Chi, capoeira, handball, something like that
- Take a photography course (and put some pictures on the blog)
- Buy some Doc Martens. And wear them
- Go speed dating
- Buy something expensive and selfish
- Take a trip on my own
- Make pastry
- Try tuna
- Break the law
Well, my hair is definitely red. And this week, instead of starting an exercise regime (because, frankly, that doesn’t sound that fun) I skipped ahead to number seven. I went on a holiday. ON MY OWN.
And where did I go on this brave, exciting trip? Somewhere exotic? Somewhere warm? Somewhere packed with young, hot, eligible bachelors?
No. I went to Bath.
Bath is a beautiful, clean, English city. It has rolling green fields and beautiful architecture. It’s freezing cold. And IT’S FULL OF OLD PEOPLE.
And I fit right in.
The oldies and I had a fabulous time rejuvenating in the thermal waters of the Bath Spa. We all rushed the Jane Austen Centre, for a lecture on the town’s most famous resident. We discussed the merits of afternoon tea, as we indulged in Bath’s renowned Sally Lunn bun (I went for lemon butter topping, while the old gent next to me chose scrambled egg). And we all made sure we were tucked up in our hotel beds by 7pm, after a sneaky Bailey’s in the lobby.
I swear, I didn’t see anyone under the age of 50 the entire time I was there.
And you know what? I bloody loved it.
It’s not the first time this has happened. A few weeks ago I decided to take myself out for the day. And like most normal, cool 20-somethings, I chose to see the West End musical ‘Top Hat’. It’s a staged version of the old Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers movie, and features a lot of tuxedos, tap dancing, and Irving Berlin standards. It was me and a bunch of pensioners in the audience. And we ALL smiled, sighed and sang along as each new classic began. I mean, who DOESN’T love ‘Cheek to Cheek’? It’s a wonderful song!
So, what’s going on? Am I an old lady in a 29-year-old’s body? Am I two steps away from playing Mahjong and wearing socks with sandals? And am I ever going to find a pastime that puts me in the path of age-appropriate, single men?
Oops, got to go. It’s time for bingo!