You know you’re an adult when you have a hobby.
But you know you’re truly an adult when your hobby becomes your entire personality.
My hobby obsession began in childhood (the source of all my problems according to my therapist). There was country dancing, swim camp, woodcraft …
There was also the time I adopted an Eddie the Eagle inspired attitude when I turned up with a broken ankle … to a dance audition. I got the part, well, a part (unnamed choir member), shout out to the South Pacific crew of way back when.
Now adulthood is in full swing, hobbies are showing no sign of slowing down.
Let’s start with Fantasy Football. Having accidentally signed up to join the work league, I was surprised at how addicted I became to a game I’d never played before and a sport I rarely watched.
Before you could say ‘offside rule’ I was turning up to brunches asking ‘what’s the score?’. I was walking into pubs to see which team were playing. I was waking my husband up at night to discuss transfers.
For one week only I made it to the top of the leaderboard (YAY). Then a colleague asked AI to write a performance review and it wrote a whole article about how terrible my tactics were.
Rude.
Next hobby please!
Song school.
Sorry what?
Yup. I attended a 4 week songwriting course led by the wonderful Laura Marling (name drop) via School of Song (highly recommend).
As an adult, with a mortgage and an air-fryer, I can confidently say it is never too late to reignite the childhood dream of becoming the next Spice Girl. Song School involved attending Q&A’s, online workshops and live Zoom sessions where you’d play your songs for other people (also in their 30s and also wondering what on earth they were doing with their lives).
Me by day: *swears at Excel for several hours*
Me by night: *writes a verse and a chorus and prays people don’t boo*
Here’s a video of me performing a song in front of actual people!
Things went from bad to worse when I re-discovered Hobby Craft. I went in for a browse and left with a stack of ribbons, a block of wood and a glue gun.
I’m not the only one getting in on the action. A woman I met at a burlesque workshop politely informed me she couldn’t attend the second session because she had a pottery class down the road.
I’d love to stay and waffle on about more hobbies but my mate bought me a ‘crotchet your own Beyonce’ kit and I want to finish it before jigsaw season begins.
Byyeeeee.
The Life Crisis 
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