Age.

On the beauty of being a late bloomer

I’m a bit hungover today and that annoys me. I have a headache and my brain doesn’t feel as focussed as usual. Last night Adrien came to meet me for a drink after my French class in Covent Garden and we went for Tapas (or TAPEass, thanks IT Crowd). We don’t normally hang out in Covent Garden so got a bit excited. I didn’t drink that much though. I guess this is what happens when you’re over 30, you stop being able to drink at all without facing any repercussions the following day.

This brings me nicely onto a topic I both want to and don’t want to talk about. Age.

I happen to be someone who looks and comes across as younger than I am. I am also friends with and have a boyfriend who is younger than me. Sometimes I lie when people ask my age (why do people ever ask people’s age). I may look and seem like I’m in my mid-twenties, but in fact I’m a decade older (cue shocked faces).

Me when I was actually 24, ten years ago, in Prague. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing with my life.

I’m a big fan of the podcast How To Fail with Elizabeth Day. Many of you may know it. In each episode, Day invites a different (but always very successful) guest on to talk about how they have failed, and how these failures have ultimately led to their success.

I’ve daydreamed about one day being successful enough to go on that podcast. I’ve wondered what I would talk about, but one thing’s for sure - I would have a lot to talk about. The guests are asked to pick three failures. Three?! How do you pick just three? I have soo many failures to choose from I wouldn’t know where to start. Failure to thrive at university or enjoy my twenties. Failure to be a good friend. Failure to “make it” in music. Failure to make "proper” money, ever. Failure to be a “proper” adult.

I am not married.

I don’t own a home.

I don’t have kids.

I don’t have a “successful” career.

Blimey.

Going by all the traditional standards of what a successful person in their thirties looks like, I am not one. In fact, it seems pretty clear that I have failed. Big time.

I always thought this was a bad thing. I was ashamed of my age, of how I hadn’t got my shit together. I’ve felt like a failure for most of my adult life. And I sometimes wonder why it has taken me so long to figure things out. Why am I such a late bloomer?

The thing is, I’m still here. And if I’m lucky, I have many more years of living and learning left. And I’ve been learning a lot. I don’t want to waste any more of my life feeling ashamed about my past or worrying about my future. I want to live.

I am 34 years old. 34 is both young and old, depending on the context. When I was a small child, for instance, and my dad was 34, that seemed pretty old. Some of you reading this may be much older than 34 though, and may even be finding it slightly irritating that someone my age could ever consider themselves old.

My parents’ dog Rufus is fourteen. He is old, for a dog. Fourteen is not old for a human though. Fourteen is young.

The other day, I read an article that frustratingly I can’t find now, written by the friend of an artist who died at 36. In that context, 36 is very young. (It was a lovely article, I wish I had saved it).

The point is, if age depends so much on context, maybe we shouldn’t be placing so much importance on it.

Let’s look at things another way.

When I finished school at 18, despite leaving with good grades, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I had no idea who I was.

So I took a gap year. I got my first job, working in the office of a computer company ( I honestly don’t remember, slash never knew, what the company did). I hated it. I lasted two months, then left. I got my second job, working in a shop. I loved it. I went travelling around East Africa with my boyfriend. I semi-enjoyed it. I had no idea who I was.

I went to university in Nottingham. I didn’t know what to study so I picked History. I got my degree. I semi-enjoyed it. I still had no idea who I was.

I moved back to London, to my parents’ house. I had several jobs, including nannying, working in a theatre, in a yoga studio, for a horse charity…

I started writing songs more seriously, learning to properly play guitar. I started performing at open mic nights. I was terrified but I did it. It gradually got less scary.

I met some other musicians. We started collaborating.

I wrote more songs. I performed more. I got better and eventually started recording my music.

I gigged more. I started making actual money from music.

I moved house, and then I moved house again, and again, and again.

I read and I read.

I met more people and I talked and I listened and I learned.

I read some more. I listened to podcasts. I met more people.

I got my heart broken. I cried. I read. I listened to podcasts. I talked to more people. I listened. I learned.

I fell in love. I learned how to be in an adult relationship (still learning this one but it’s going pretty well).

The truth is, there is no reason why we must do everything and learn everything by a certain age. The mad squiggle of my life journey so far has led me to be the person I am today, and I’m finally starting to quite like that person. My failures and struggles have given me scope for empathy and understanding when it comes to other people's struggles. My experiences have taught me what I like and what I don’t like. Who I am, and who I want to be.

I used to think the slow, twisted path my life has taken was a bad thing. Lately, I've started thinking it's my secret power.

And I think, perhaps, it’s made me a better writer.

Yes, I am a late bloomer. But I am blooming now. Who knows how big my petals.. will grow.. (this is a flawed metaphor, I’m sorry).

So I’m starting to feel less ashamed of my age. Of my slowness. I’m proud of how far I have come, and most importantly, I no longer feel like anything is holding me back from where I want to go.

Now I just need to figure out where that is… but that’s a whole other topic.

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Here are a few good things from this week (I enjoyed making a list like this last week so thought I’d continue it here) -

• Stirring it up with Andi and Miquita Oliver, the episode with Davina McCall - I love this podcast in general and this episode was great, there’s lots of chat about menopause which we all need to learn more about.

• And Andi Oliver’s Fabulous Feasts (BBC iPlayer) - I’m only on episode 2 but it’s so heartwarming and wholesome, to quote my housemate Oliver “has good energy”.

• Bonny Light Horseman’s new album Keep Me on Your Mind/See You Free is out now and I am listening to it as I write this :)

• I’m currently reading Jami Attenberg’s 1000 Words and finding it so inspiring. I’m not doing the challenge (yet) because I only learnt about it a week or so ago but it’s giving me ideas. If you don’t know what I’m talking about check out her Substack here.

• Lastly, this is my favourite thing ever (okay not ever but it’s good) - rediscovered after telling our friend about it and now in every rehearsal I try to re-enact it which is probably (definitely) annoying.

I’ve been really enjoying reading your comments and learning a little about who’s been reading these newsletters, and it made me think about how many of you here I know absolutely nothing about. I’m still pretty new to Substack and to having strangers reading my writing, so if you fancy, please do share a little about yourselves in the comments! Especially if you relate to any of what I’ve said here.