So officially I’m 21- but inside I’m enjoying my mid life crisis.

As 21^st birthday evenings go, this would have been one to remember. I say that because I have no memory of it. In fact I’m not sure it even happened or if it did, whether I was even there. I have it on good authority that at least twenty of us had a BBQ and ventured into town for the night. All I know for sure is I woke up the next day with three holes in my face, a t-shirt covered in blood [my only reasonable solution is that I got intimate with some tarmac on the way home] and a hangover to eclipse all others. It felt like somewhere inside my head King Kong was having a fight with The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to a Dubstep soundtrack. Yeah... that good.

Why though? At the end of the day (post hangover recovery of course) I just felt exactly the same as I did 3 weeks ago. Everyone seems to consider 21 a milestone age, at this stage I should [in theory] be considered an actual adult. I can now drink and gamble in the USA (and everywhere else for that matter) but I can’t afford to get there and won’t be able to for the foreseeable future. That’s that bonus taken away before I’ve even got started. What else is there? Not a lot that I couldn’t do since I turned 18. In theory I should get more respect from people as if by becoming 21 you just magically gain wisdom beyond your years. I’m not getting my hopes up for that, anyone that’s ever met me will know I really don’t deserve any respect [which I’m fine with, I’m far too sarcastic and childish to be taken seriously].

There is one bonus to take – I already know what it’s like to be old and disparaging. I’m one of the grumpiest and cynical students in the area but I can’t help myself. I’m forever moaning about things that have very little consequence in the long run – like the point of revolving doors. Why? Just why? Normal doors are far simpler & quicker to use as well as much cheaper to install [told you I was getting old... stop me before I start moaning about my tax return].

Another favourite topic of concern for my middle aged self is music. Specifically why people seem to jam what’s popular this month down my throat relentlessly, at hideous volumes and normally through speakers that make it sound like it was recorded in a garden shed fifty feet from the M25. We’ve all got that one friend that justifies their [awful] taste in music by saying “it’s really high in the iTunes chart this week” forgetting entirely that Bob the Builder and Slipknot were also, at one point in a similar position. Did you have those when they were popular? Definitely not. I probably bought the Slipknot track though. In fact, I’m going to buy hundreds of copies of the loudest, angriest screamo just to see if they end up listening to it on popularity grounds.

My third and final source of great annoyance is people that drink Guinness solely for St Patrick’s Day. Any other day of the year and you wouldn't buy it if it was 20p cheaper than Fosters or Carlsberg or the cheap spirit of your choice. Yet the idea of a shamrock in the foam or the lure of a cheap fabric hat and all of a sudden your cousin’s mum’s next door neighbour said hello to Patrick Kielty once so you’re Irish enough to be considered a leprechaun. [and I can say all this... my Nanna’s mum was Irish. Boom.]

Yet with all this vented stress, I’d like to point out that I’m a massive hypocrite. This very St Patrick’s Day I was seen and photographed in one of the aforementioned Guinness Hats dancing like a leprechaun after at least 8 pints of the black stuff. Probably to the music that’s riding high in the iTunes chart and having a whale of a time. Thus leaving only revolving doors to be my one chance of keeping some integrity [a sentence I NEVER thought I’d say]. 

Somewhat fittingly, that’s well out of the window. Every time I see a set of revolving doors (whether I’m planning to go into the building or not) I’ll wait until the last moment and "Indiana Jones it" at the last second. Needless to say I believe I’m Harrison Ford for a matter of thirty seconds before I feel like a dick. Unfortunately that comes 20 seconds after everyone else has had the same thought.