It started off like any other Monday — opened one eye, crawled out of bed, staggered towards the kitchen to get up close and personal with a cup of tea, got attacked by the cat, prised open the other eye, found the morning newspaper and settled down to read it.
That was when it hit me. I spied the date. I was mere days away from being the mother of a 16-year-old (insert Jaws theme music here).
Yesterday was the big day, and now my wee lad isn’t such a wee lad any more. Happy birthday Nick and I must admit, I feel a tad old.
I know they say age is only important for dead fish and good wine but my moments of age-related paranoia aren’t helped when our own Southland Times Uptown Girl columnist Sarah Kilkelly talks about going to see the movie Jurassic Park when she was just a kid.
Oh, and Sarah, don’t click that link, there are scary dinosaurs galore.
I was born in 1966, the same year the first episode of Star Trek screened in the United States, Billie Jean King won her first Wimbledon singles title and John Lennon famously proclaimed the Beatles to be more popular than Jesus.
John Lennon’s death was another defining moment for my generation. No kiddies, his death doesn’t sit alongside that of grunge rocker Kurt Cobain. Lennon grew up with a whole generation of fans and collected new ones from the next generation, he was as important as Elvis.
Without the spandex jumpsuits and cheesiness.
That’s another thing that doesn’t always age well — fashion. Although, right now retro is the latest thing so maybe there’s hope for me yet.
The 80s was one of the most unkind decades for fashion. I can’t help wondering if a few thousand years from now, scientists will be disturbed upon viewing photos of Michael Jackson’s glove, David Hasselhoff’s Speedos and Linda Evan’s three-storey tall shoulder pads in Dynasty.
Hell, I’m disturbed already by those images, and I had pink, spiked hair in the 1980s.