I often think about the fact that I am now 28 and still no one has chased me through an airport. No one has dramatically shouted my name at a boarding gate, or run through security waving a bunch of roses (although I prefer sunflowers), or begged me to stay just as I’m about to start a new life in Rome. Which is very disappointing, considering how often I’ve practised looking back, tearfully, while ascending the steps of a Ryanair flight.
Here are some other things I thought would have happened by now:
- I’d wear matching underwear every day and have found the perfect red lipstick
- I’d have a flat with tall windows, high ceilings, and parquet flooring. The flat would overlook Regents Park and the animals from London Zoo would come and visit me every night like in 64 Zoo Lane.
- I’d own a Le Creuset by now or at the very least, have strong opinions on which colour is best
- I’d have a big group of friends who all holiday together every summer
- I’d have worn a dusky pink ball gown and danced with the King of Siam
- I’d be financially stable. Not rich, just stable (I’d know what a fixed rate ISA is)
It’s not all bad though. I’ve had some amazing holidays, I own some fabulous shoes and I make a pretty good lasagne. I’ve never had an airport chase scene, but I’ve had many crying on the tube scenes, dancing the night away scenes and belly laughing in the park scenes. So I can’t complain too much, and maybe the perfect lipstick, the beautiful flat and the big romantic gesture just haven’t happened… yet.
Some things I’ve loved lately:
Nigella Lawson’s Lasagne of Love, it’s definitely an all day kind of recipe and I found myself getting increasingly frustrated with some of the steps e.g. leave it for 30 minutes before popping it in oven, leave it another 40 minutes after taking it out of the oven, you begin to think you may never get to eat it but when you finally do, all is forgiven.
I always love going to the Portrait Prize at the National Portrait Gallery, a true summer staple. Predictably none of my favourites won. Also very strange the paintings they used for the posters were not the winners, even though I personally felt they were the most compelling (which is potentially why they were used in all the advertising.) It was quite funny because there was one painting I couldn’t take my eyes off because the sitter looked so much like one of my colleagues, only to look at the description and see it was her. My uncle is a painter and I’m always hopeful that one day I will turn a corner and see one of his paintings in the exhibitions.
How about you? Had you also assumed you’d be fluent in Italian by now? Maybe you thought you’d have a big fluffy ginger cat who loves lasagne, or someone who sends you good morning texts and knows your coffee order. Tell me your “haven’t happened… yet” dreams. I’ll be here (wearing mismatched pyjamas) and manifesting an airport chase scene.
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