I’ve recently noticed several signs of adulthood in my behaviour. At first I was horrified, but I have come to accept, even enjoy, the natural ageing process
I nearly drove into a wall the other day, because I couldn’t take my eyes off some spectacular wisteria. Ten years ago I doubt I would have even noticed it, or known what it was, never mind been so transfixed that I unwittingly endangered my life. It’s pretty much invisible in your youth, and then suddenly, at a certain age, or stage, you see it, appreciate it and become mesmerised by its impressive display.
My botanical brush with death was the moment that I knew for certain: no matter how I feel inside, I am now unquestionably a grownup. This wisteria hysteria isn’t an isolated incident, of course. There have been several other definitely adult signifiers: