All groan up

Take a seat peeps, for surely these are momentous times. It’s the anniversary to trump all anniversaries, because you’ve guessed it. It’s the 20th anniversary of the birth of HOLLYOAKS! Yes. folks, it really has been around THAT long. You see there was a time, way back in the shrouded mists of 1995 where the British youth were crying out in one voice – bring us cheap TV, set in Chester! Bring us the early incarnation of scouse brows, tight lycra and implausible plot lines! Bring us…! Ok, we didn't want anyone to bring us any of the above, any more than we wanted platform trainers, hooch hard lemonade and Robson & Jerome, but it came nevertheless… and as witnessed by the anniversary, it has stayed.

Just your average day at Hollyoaks High

And I concede, as an anniversary it’s hardly worthy of a Great British Menu banquet, but to me this Hollyoaks-ary IS significant. I’ve not watched Hollyoaks since about 1998 (who would? All the orange skin, wobbly sets and even wobblier acting is enough to put you off Channel 4 forever), plus I’m hardly the demographic they are seeking in their ‘just back from school, but racier than Blue Peter' time slot. But that’s the nub of the matter you see. There WAS a time when I was that demographic, and today’s momentous news has just hammered home to me one rather depressing fact…. I’m getting old.

I’ll be honest, this is not the first time I’ve had to come face to face with my own decrepidity. I seem to have been steadily ticking off the checkpoints of age with alarming regularity, not least my recent 35^th birthday. But while someone whose name I can’t remember (it’s the early onset Alzheimers dear) may have said that age aint nothing but a number (glossing over the double negatives), I’ve noticed that there are a few other ageing milestones I’ve been ticking off with alarming regularity, most notably:

 - Realising I make a certain grasping, creaking noise whenever I stand up after being sat in a comfy chair

 - Realising I make the exact opposite noise when I sit back down in said comfy chair

 - Getting excited to cook a roast dinner, not because of the roast itself, but because I can make a good stock afterwards

 - Being mildly perturbed by the hairstyles of 99% of the xFactor contestants (except the 'Overs', natch)

 - Claiming Thursday night is the new Friday night, then spending both on my sofa snarking at the telly via Twitter

 -  Considering my Sunday morning hangover before I've started my Saturday night drinking

 - Shouting the answers (often incorrect ones at that) at the TV during university challenge

 - Having at least 2 bottles of wine in the fridge at all times, and one bottle of port in the booze cupboard

 - Actually having a booze cupboard… and a well stocked one at that!

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not hitting pension age just yet. I still love my festivals, gigs, nights out with mates, house parties and all the rest. It's just I like to know there's comfortable seating wherever I'm doing it. Definitely a sign of impending creakiness I think. 

But of course the classic sign of getting older is realising you’re showing all the classic signs and not really caring, so that’s where I’m now at. Happily ensconced on my sofa (or in my kitchen making stock), not raging it up as I used to & raging at the TV instead (or children playing noisily outside my window) and keeping the noise level low. Basically, I’m turning into my mother…. Except slightly more annoyed it seems. Am I happy with that? Well a 15 year old, Hollyoaks watching me would be furious at the idea of it, but the 35 year old me is much more accepting of the idea, which perhaps is the biggest sign of growing old of all.