29 November 2007
The older I get, the more I realise that somehow, somewhere, I left the path of youth and vigour and started down the slippery slope that leads to being an adult, and we all know that at somewhere along the "being an adult" road comes the sneaky (but terrifying) offshoot into "turning into my mother/father".
First it was debit cards and credit cards, then before long came grey hairs, bills, renting my first flat, having my boiler break down - all the little things that take you that little step further towards being a proper Adult.
I've managed to dodge some of the really big stuff so far - I'm not married, I don't have kids, own a house or a car, and I've never been self employed, but despite all my best attempts to slow my progress, it's happening anyway.
I turn lights off.
Obsessively.
And get quite annoyed when they get left on.
Not because I'm an eco-nazi, but because my mum spent years moaning at me to switch lights off, and when I said "but muuuuuuum" (as you do when you're, any age, really) the response was always "when you have a house of your own I'll come round and leave all the lights on and see how you like it!" and y'know what? I don't like all the lights on.
Gah.
The sneakiest of all though, happened recently.
There I was, buzzing through life, diet-coked up to the eyeballs and telling anyone who dared question my decision to not drink tea that it was just like drinking stewed grass, and "ew, no thanks".
Then something weird happened.
I got an urge to drink tea.
I've had these urges before. Every few months or so, I'd buy the latest box of herbal tea bags that caught my eye (I'm such a packaging-whore), think it smelled lovely, make myself a cup and find that it tasted of stewed grass (so far, so predictable, so reinforced) and the urge would go away, leaving me with a trail of almost full boxes of weird tea.
I was happy with that. It was comforting. I wasn't a tea drinker. Tea didn't exist in my world. Give me Diet Coke or give me death! (cos with the caffeine withdrawal headache it seemed the only way out)
Then the inevitable happened.
I found a tea I like.
Of course, while most cafes and hotels have a wide selection of the aforementioned stewed grass-tasting teas available to those who like that kind of thing, the selection very rarely includes Rooibos.
Why am I mentioning this?
For two reasons:
1. The place we book to deliver our monthly Beyond the Basics training course had a box of Rooibos Tea Bags sat out in the tea and coffee area today, and I nearly giggled with glee (cos I was gasping for a cuppa).
2. Despite all attempts to avoid it, I've taken another step down the "turning into my mother road". Whenever I go away anywhere, I now carry and envelope or small ziplock baggie with teabags in it.
DOOM.
No worries ey? I drink lots of tea myself, and i'm a cool dutch guy.
Heh, the small ziplock baggie of DOOM. Ace.
But Rooibos? Really? You're stranger than I thought ;)
Of all the things that might make me appear strange, it's the tea that tips it over the edge?!?
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