Dear Diary,
So I’m reeling from yesterday’s revelations about what my energy bill is going to look like from October and my first thought is… I’ve got holidays booked and pending. I’m not postponing any plans after the last few wasted years locked down in my one bedroom flat, alone! Are you kidding me?
I’m one of a growing band of single women in their 50’s, navigating an expanding waistline and an ever growing invisibility in public! I must be deluded; I think I look pretty damn good, but clearly I'm the only one thinking so. Well, I’m no Bridget Jones. You’re not going to find me bleating on about not having a man. Well only sometimes (I’m only human). My mantra has always been “no regrets” and I have tried to live my life that way by-and-large, despite numerous obstacles - culture and convention being primary.
I am writing this on a train, travelling to see my mum for the bank holiday weekend. Not sure why, but I feel the need to offload. To many I probably sound indulgent and especially to those who have accused me of being selfish for not having kids. But what else do I do? Others have their kids and spouses/lovers to speak to; gain physical contact, hugs and a shoulders to try on. What do I (and the millions like me) have? Experiences and memories. That’s what keeps my head above water. The thing that I cling to and brings a smile to my face when I’m feeling a bit low. The knowledge that there is a big old world out there for me to discover, experiences to have, people to meet, sights to behold and conversations to be had with people I wouldn’t have dreamt of meeting on my closeted 9-5 existence. Those are the things that are now about to be sacrificed to the Gods of Oil and Gas. Well over my dead body. I will just have to get more work and spend my time at home wrapped in a duvet.
What a life.