ONCE you turn 30 you’re boring and only boring things thrill you. These are the punishingly dull things you now find fascinating:
Being tucked up by half-ten seemed ludicrous in your 20s, when common wisdom was exhaustion needed to be binge-drunk through. But now the very thought is more tantalising than a coke-fuelled orgy. And, like said orgy, it remains an impossible dream because either your partner’s nagging you for a shag or you have Twitter scrolling to do.
Good drying weather
Sunshine sends adrenaline pumping through your veins because of the rush of hanging damp laundry out for a proper dry. Fastening the pegs in place with your hands trembling with ecstasy, you sit back to watch the drying process in action. You’re living the dream.
Once so abstract and inconsequential that just thinking about them drove you insane with boredom, now you sneak off to your office bathroom for a glimpse at what APR you’re eligible for if you switch credit cards. Your colleagues know what you’re doing, and they think it’s disgusting.
The sickness of finding pleasure in running 26.2 miles can strike people in their late twenties, but once you enter your third decade it’s inescapable. Training, sponsorship, costumes, the whole deal, all to get a sad echo of the highs you routinely used to get from smoking skunk.
Insipid chickpea mush is the only food your taste buds are capable of handling in your advanced years, so you’ve come to regard it with misplaced awe. ‘Is this the flavourless good shit from Waitrose?’ you’ll ask your host at a twatty dinner party before fainting from the sheer bland euphoria.