The number 3 and the letter O

Or, if you will, simply the dreaded 30…

The trickle of 30th birthday invitations is beginning to snowball and within 6 short months it will be akin to an avalanche.

That’s not me boasting about the number of social engagements I have to go to, I would hasten to add, simply a reflection of the point in my life that I now find myself at. Generally, I find that the bulk of my friends are spread across the academic years immediately above and below mine, which meant that the 30th’s started last autumn, but will really get going when ‘my year’ start in September this year. [To explain to the non-Brits. The cut off for the school year is August 31st – so I’m one of the youngest in my year…]

What’s struck me of late is the variety of invitations I’ve acquired. (I did, of course, have to be going off on some kind of random tangent with this!) These days the standard is a Facebook invite – pretty impersonal, but gets the job done nonetheless – with the added bonus of being able to see who else is invited. Others choose the simple e-mail, whilst the corporate whores amongst us issue Outlook meeting requests…

What came as a total surprise was an engraved, ivory card invitation to a quiet soiree – this particularly invitation is significantly more sophisticated than most of the wedding invites I’ve had, though that may say more about my class of friends than anything else! The fact that the invitation’s resulted in a degree of intrigue amongst certain social circles is an added bonus.

Thank goodness most of my contemporaries will hit the number of doom before I do. Partly because I’ll get to sample many celebrations before planning my own – so I should have plenty of ideas; and also, I’ll get to gloat over my ‘still in my 20s’ status in the company of elderly 30 somethings. Cruel I know, but my day will come and others will take their turn in inflicting emotional age-related anguish upon me. (For those friends that would like to hit me right now, take solace in the fact that amongst my ‘girls’ I’m one of the oldest and am already enduring taunts about how close I am to becoming ‘officially old’.)

And my plans for this weekend? Another 30th of course. In fact, this particular friend is being greedy by having two celebrations, over 100 miles apart. [Yes, this is the out of town trip dilemma from the previous post. Dilemma was resolved surprisingly painlessly.] So, I am off to Bath, home of Jane Austen, to see if I can locate my own Mr Darcy. Well, a girl can dream, can’t they?