Life is faster than a cannonball
It's a creeping thing. Age.
One minute you are the young kid on the block, in charge of determining what is cool or not, sniggering at the naivete and staidness of the older generations.
Then the next minute you are them.
The only problem is that inside, you are still the youthful whippersnapper you once were, even if the mirror and society dictate otherwise.
Gradually ‘adulting’ creeps up on you, however late you stay out (actually that makes it worse) and even if you determinedly continue to tune to BBC Radio One, while secretly preferring Radio Two, then Four.
Nostalgia is a sign.
When you start reminiscing about the bands that evoke your teenage and young adult life or, critically, the band’s music starts creeping their way through the numbers on the aforementioned radio stations, you know your day is done.
This moment crystallised perfectly for me this week - I have been kidding myself I’m still young for years - when I watched an Oasis documentary and realised my era was now officially documented and in the archive.
I was fairly smug through The Beatles’ one - the band that leapt out of my mother’s record collection and her memorable concert experience of choice.
But Oasis, and bands of that time and ilk, were mine.
Their first single Supersonic was released in my final year of university and reviewed by yours truly for the student magazine (from a vinyl record).
I’d never heard of them then (it was all about Blur) but fortunately for this anecdote I gave them a thumbs up.
After two long years travelling in countries severely behind musically, I returned to Oasis v Blur mania and embraced the Madchester scene complete with the 20-inch-bottomed flares.
It was my time. I
’m only a tad younger than Liam Gallagher, who, by the way, one of my reporters - not even the youngest trainee - had never heard of.
Nor had she any knowledge of the Happy Mondays.
You might as well put me down now. It was bad enough when work experience students young enough to be my children appeared.
But when your colleagues start looking ridiculously young, it’s time to grow up.