I have never thought of myself as nostalgic, but moving back to where I grew up, I found myself thinking about my first proper boyfriend and the way we bonded over music: Siouxsie and the Banshees ‘Juju’, The Cure ‘Disintegration’, Sonic Youth ‘Daydream Nation’. I was one of the few goths in the town, and got spat on and attacked because of it. He had moved here from the city, so was well versed in looking after himself, primed for abuse from idiots. He was a way out, an escape out of my rut at that time.We moved to the city together; we grew apart. I boomeranged back here, a bit lost.
Now, more than ever, I realise I’m not good at adulting. I still rent my flat. I forget to wash dishes and eat sometimes. My hair is dyed but I’m getting jowly, and I have had two hip replacements. To my shame, I still can’t drive.
When, the question remains-do I start to feel my age? Are we all just vamping it? Has anyone got the elixir of life? Is anyone an adult really?-I remember the caustic words of psychology expert Richard Grannon:”We’re all just entities in socks”. Words to live by, methinks. I’m off to watch ‘The Simpsons’. It’s that episode where Homer does something stupid.
Hit The North 