Growing Up

There comes a time, or most probably multiple times, in life where the stark reality of growing up hits you in the face like a man with a giant wooden mallet. This can happen in either a literal or metaphorical sense. This has happened to me an awful lot lately, so this is a list of those occasions. 

As of 10:37 yesterday morning, I have officially started applying to university. This is very scary. It means I’m one step closer to living on the other side of the world to my parents, being a grown up and doing adult things, like paying bills. I don’t like bills. 

Yesterday, I also caught a bus. That in itself is not particularly unusual or surprising or scary. What is, is that when getting off the bus, I managed to hit my head on the ceiling. If I remember correctly, Claire, I am about the same height as you. It would take a significant stretch of the imagination to think of me as a tall person, but yet I am somehow as tall as the ceiling on buses. 

This morning, the NHS sent me a letter. And for the first (well, technically second) time ever, it was addressed to me. Not my parents. They asked me some strange questions about if it was okay for them to share my medical information with the rest of the universe. Unsurprisingly, I said no.  (And used up half a roll of cellotape trying to do up the envelope they sent me for my response. I’m not grown up enough yet to be fully competent with envelopes that are typed on the backs of letters.) 

Also, because I saw an advert for one that looked good, I am applying for a job. It’s only a Saturday job, six hours a week at the greengrocers, but still. I have to write a covering letter, and that’s one of these grown up things I’ve never had to do before … 

– Vicki (who suddenly feels very, very old)


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