Skirting 30

Last Friday I went to see Boyzone on their comeback tour at the O2.

Yes, I went to see Boyzone.

I am stating loud and proud on this blog that I spent £40 on reliving my youth! It was a fabulous night out, made even more fun by being with 11 other overly excited friends (including my sister who I’d chaperoned to her first ever concert – seeing Boyzone 11 years ago) and some great entertainment.

I may blog more about it later, but what has actually incensed me today is the result of a review of the gig that was in the Londonpaper yesterday. It’s a great review actually, it’s conclusion being that it was “unexpectedly amazing”, which is true.

However, a friend, who for the time being will remain nameless (not sure how long he’ll remain a friend actually) just sent me a text about this article saying:
“Boyzone review from yesterday’s paper. Title: The Campest of Comebacks. I quote ‘the audience (mostly female and mostly skirting 30)’. Comedy.”

My reply?
I’m 26. I am NOT skirting 30!

There then followed one of the most hilarious metaphors I’ve ever read for ageing:
“Yes you are. You’re poking it with a short stick and very soon it will jump up and bite you on the arse.”

Then I made the mistake of calculating how many days are left till I reach the dreaded age (1155 and I really wish I hadn’t done it).

Is it wrong to have such a hang-up about turning 30? More to the point, isn’t it wrong to point out how old your friends are and to prey on their insecurities?!

I think I’ll let my soon to be ex-friend have the final word (he may, for once, have a point):
“Bloody hell. Chill out woman. Most people calm with age.”