Ten years

Ha! So much for one entry a day. Lazy lazy lazy.

I am feeling old. The sisters and I went out on Saturday night to a bar whose doors I haven't darkened in ten years. Ten Years. As in, I couldn't drink legally the last time I was in there (not that that stopped me...) Back then, it was tiny and cramped and cold in winter and the old booths were rickety and ripped. The last time I drank there I owned ten-hole Doc Martens and a long tie-dyed skirt and drank Ritz and thought I was the bee's knees.

Was I ever in for a shock on Saturday evening.

The place is twice its former size now - it was completely gutted and refitted a couple of years back. The ceilings are still low but now slightly arched and from them hangs a couple of grand's worth of fancy lights and rigging. The booths have been replaced by snazzy dark wood tables and stools in a semi circle around a huge dancefloor/moshpit. Up and coming Irish bands play there week in, week out and the price of admission would have bought me five bottles of Ritz back in the day. The crowd is still young, but they seem much older than I did at their age. Gone are the tatty grunger outfits and in their place are skinny jeans, Chanel handbags and a casual cool I could never have dreamt of pulling off at sixteen.

I stood at the back sipping my gin and bitter and looking on as my feet started to ache from my too-high heels and my ears started to ring from the noisy pop-rockers thrashing about on stage. I left after half an hour to hobble home and drink tea and sleep for nine hours. Somehow, I don't think the distance between twenty-six and thirty-six will seem so vast.