When will I feel like a grown up?

Spoiler: Never (but the magic question that helps you be a grown up)...+ lovely things this week

When I was 15 years old, I remember being somewhat startled and dismayed when an uncle revealed to me that grown-ups don’t feel grown-up. I must have confessed to him that I was looking forward to being one myself. ‘Oh no, that will never happen,’ he said. ‘There could be a ninety-six-year-old chairman of the board, and if a confident thirty-year-old walks in to take a seat at the table, the old man will blanch and think: “Oh god, he looks like the grown-up around here.”’ (He also told me that I would never have enough time or money, so get used to it – probably after I asked to borrow a fiver.)

Last year, I reached my half-century, and there have been all sorts of feelings around this (mostly good, kids, dw), but the sharpest has been the realisation that the time has now passed when I would have done the thing if it was the thing I was going to get done ‘when I’m a grown up.’

I still don’t know, for example, the solution to my hair. (I often wonder if my life would have been completely different if I had had long, straight glossy hair.) My clothes are still a jumble of high street, charity, given by mates, the occasional splurge. I don’t have a signature style or a uniform (but I can pull old school glamour out of the bag when required). I still don’t own 48 pairs of beautiful high heels as my grandmother did. My make-up drawers are a mess (although I do have a single drawer of nothing but lipsticks, which does feel a bit grown up) and I’ve only just learned how to do a smoky eye, if not one that lasts a whole evening out. I pay my taxes on time but only because I pay someone else first to ensure it gets done. When I go to a friend’s house and they have, say, a kitchen that hasn’t needed repainting for the last three years, or hand towels in the bathroom that are fairly nice, or prepare a supper that is delicious and doesn’t appear to be the result of three hours’ sweating over different recipe books to come up with something they didn’t serve me last time… I feel inadequate, not grown up enough. ‘Soon,’ I think, ‘I’ll get on top of that.’ But maybe the time for saying that is over.

(Current favourite phrase in the house is courtesy of Claudia in Traitors: ‘The time for talking is over.’ Useful when others interrupt.)

What to do about this? I fear acceptance is the only option. In hindsight, I reached the height of my maturity when I was 19, when people commented frequently and admiringly about how grown up I was. But it was all downhill from there. I mean, this is as grown up as I’m ever going to feel. And ‘this’ feels the same as it did when I was nineteen, albeit with some experiences and short-cuts tacked on.

I mean, sure, sometimes, I do things that are, unquestionably, grown up. I’m Chair of Governors for the village primary school. But in my mind, whenever I lead a board meeting, ungrown-up me freaks out about it: LOOKATMEDOINGTHISGROWNUPTHING!!

I’m not alone, I have friends who are CEOs of their businesses – another reason I know I’ve reached the grown-up milestone – and they say they freak out in their minds when they lead a board meeting. And when you are older than cabinet ministers you know for sure – the grown-ups aren’t in charge, and maybe they never were. (It was Matt Hancock that really did this for me – too reminiscent of pasty-faced boys I remembered from university, the ones that tried to snog girls in the pub to prove that they’d pulled.)

Don’t get me wrong. Feeling young after 50 is a good thing. But feeling grown up is not about feeling old. I think what we mean when we see someone who looks like a grown up, is that they seem to be confident in who they are. Perhaps being a grown up is saying you’ll do a thing, and doing it because you know yourself and that means knowing your values. Think about it: childish people don’t seem to live according to any kind of moral code. Boris, Trump, toddlers.

I’ve found one answer. When I was going through a sticky patch last year, my sister suggested I meditate for five minutes every morning for two weeks, using the Insight Timer app. And thus it was that I found a sexy-voiced Italian called Fabio Dorian Mattiussi who did make me feel better, it’s true, because he told me every morning that I was thoughtful and I make all the right choices. (Repeat that last bit in your head with an Italian accent. Mwah!) What I’ve returned to often, is the very last thing that he says:

“Whenever it is that you don’t know what to do, ask yourself this question: ‘What would the person I want to be, do?’ And do it.”

I know it’s a version of ‘what would Madonna do?’ but it’s the grown-up version. As Fabio says, compare yourself only to your higher self – that’s the person you’re referring to here. And do it. You might not feel like a grown-up but you’ll be one.

How many therapists does it take to change a lightbulb?
One. But the lightbulb has to really want to change.

I suspect this week’s post was brought on by the ‘news’ that Gen Z are too afraid to change a lightbulb in case it’s hot, or stand on a ladder in case it falls over. This is about common sense more than being a grown-up but I suppose it’s a good reminder that we have to teach this stuff if we want happy lives. A case in point: my husband does not know how to hang up wet clothing so that it dries properly, refuses to obey my instructions, leaving me in sole charge of the laundry because my controlling behaviour can’t have oddly-dried t-shirts, and now I’m angry four times a week.

Lovely things (with links)

At Singapore airport, just before my 19 hour trip home

A thin coat – the thing you never knew you needed that changes everything.

I’ve been travelling long haul a lot this week and have been viciously reminded that going to hot countries means you will be cold most of the time because the air con is always set to freezing. Also, long haul flights seem to be unreasonably cold (why? Is the punishment of tiny snacks not enough?). I remembered thick socks for flying, and light jumpers for layering, but it was all looking very scruffy. And then I spotted a large, thin trench coat in the sale at Muji at Abu Dhabi airport. The oversized, beltless, loose look is elegant, covers up all sins and is just the right side of either warm or cool, depending on what you need. Annoyingly, I don’t think the exact same ones are sold in the UK but this one in navy looks close enough. This one from Finery looks like it would do the trick, too – and it’s washable.

Lighting

While it’s dark half the day, my obsession with good lighting is at full tilt. This system was a gamechanger for me. In your chosen room, each table lamp gets a control plug – look, I don’t know the science-y name for it but it’s super simple to set up. You can hook up to five lamps to one remote control, which means that instead of going around switching on (and off) each individual lamp, you simply stand in the middle of the room and click the remote. It’s orgasmically pleasurable. What’s more, even recalcitrant partners and teenagers will do it because it feels so good, which means that you don’t come home from an evening out to find the rest of your household watching TV with the big light on. (Is there anything more depressing?) A hell of a lot cheaper than rewiring the room so that all the lamps are plugged into the one wall switch (the dream).

Also, battery-operated small lamps like these, which I put behind books on shelves for a little uplighting. It gives depth to the room. And remote controlled too, with timers!

And these rechargeable picture lights, which really do look very smart and can be whacked up anywhere (why not over a small shelf with a pretty object on it?). I’ve had mine for a couple of years and they’re doing well. I will say that these cheaper ones run out of juice after a few evenings but you only have to leave them recharging overnight and they’re good to go again.

Good granola

I’m in need of home comforts now so I’m going to soothe myself by making Tom Kerridge’s delicious granola. I put in a lot more nuts (cheap at Lidl and their roasted hazelnuts are the best) and about half the dried fruit that he suggests but it’s the cardamom that I think really elevates it and makes it feel warming. For breakfast, I have it with Greek yoghurt and blueberries that have had 30 seconds in the microwave. But mostly, to be honest, I scoop out handfuls of it to scoff when I’m working.

And a retro movie

I was reminded of the film Jack and Sarah recently, and rewatched it while putting up a curtain pole (took me three attempts – I don’t think the Gen Zers have anything to worry about), and it’s just so sweet, with a great cast (Richard E.Grant, Judi Dench) and 90s soundtrack. Free to watch on ITV X.

That’s it for this week. Thank you so much for reading. All newsletters are free for the moment but if you enjoyed it, I’d so appreciate you clicking the heart – it’s nice for me and helps others find me, too.