Beautiful night last night just chillin in The Jacaranda Lounge….great music, cool vibe, reflecting on life with the help of a few Crazy Mandy Cocktails….nothing to say really..
2 more sleeps that is, until I throw off my self-imposed, domestic shackles and head to Ibiza.
Have I hit menopause? Yes
Is this a mid life crisis? Probably
Am I an embarrassment to my children? Probably
Do I care? Well yes, a little bit but they’ll survive.
Do I feel guilty? No
Why Ibiza? Because I love to dance. Dance music makes me happy and from all accounts I could dance all night with a chicken on my head in Ibiza and no one would bat an eyelid. I don’t particularly want to get drunk as I don’t like feeling ill, although I am sure I will partake of the occasional cocktail. And I do not, despite what others may think, have any interest in chatting up nubile young boys the same age as my kids, Christ I’ve been living with four blokes for the past 21 years, I have no interest in spending precious time with any more of them. I just want to dance and have a bloody good laugh. I’m not going alone, I am going with my beautiful , bonkers and funny little Sister Ali and my tall, blond gorgeous, funny and very talented singer song writer niece, Amelia-Jane. It’s going to be a giggle and I really can’t wait.
Because, really, menopause is a bit of a shit, something that creeps up on you quietly and unannounced and brings you face to face with your mortality as it sarcastically whispers, hey, you, yes you! You might be fit and healthy, you might feel 25 and even look younger than your age but look here my lady, you are now the wrong side of fifty and what’s on offer is an exciting future of hot flushes, grey hair, wrinkles, incontinence pants, cruises and learning to play bridge. The free bus pass may, however, come in useful, apparently on some trips they give you afternoon tea!
But I’m not having it. I have no intention of submitting without a bit of a fight. Close friends have started to fall from this mortal coil and life is short and if and when my time comes, I would like to drop dead doing something I shouldn’t really have been doing at my age.
So dear diary or blog or whatever you call it these days, here’s to the rest of my life. Bring on Ibiza!