It was only the other day when a bird pooed in my hair and I didn’t notice until a stranger on the bus offered to pick it out with a tissue (thank you stranger) that I realised life in my twenties isn’t as glamorous as I imagined it would be.
To add to the chaos, I recently turned 26 which (apparently) means I’m no longer officially a young person. So now I’m just a person who listens to Craig David’s ‘7 Days’ on full blast whilst swanning around Manchester with bird shit in my hair.
To celebrate the depressing occasion of turning another year older (and being no longer eligible for a young person’s railcard) I decided to spend the day eating fuck loads of cake.
The Veruca Salt in me always makes an appearance when Birthday cake comes out, so good luck to anyone who wants a slice!
As I had my cake and ate it too, I remembered that being a young person hasn’t come without its hurdles…..
Age 7: falls over music system wires at primary school fate (cue all music stopping) when running to collect a tombola won face paint set.
Age 14: hobbles through school on crutches (complete with braces and oversized backpack) after spectacularly breaking ankle on friend’s trampoline.
Age 19: survives the ‘where’s all the loo roll and who stole all my forks?’ reality of uni halls.
Age 25: accidentally buys glow in the dark bikini bottoms – scaring everyone in the steam room away with my light up crotch.
The other day: bird shits in hair.
But as anybody superstitious will tell you, a bird pooing on you is meant to bring you good luck and fortune.
Hopefully, this is a sign that my adulthood is set to be less clumsy than my youth (but hopefully equally as entertaining) and full of success and riches. So, I guess all I have to do now is wait for the millions to roll in so I can pay off all that student debt…….
(Ps cake was really nice and I had a really lovely birthday – I’m not a grumpy guts, promise) x