far from the madding crowd, julie christie, countryside, conflicted, good or bad

We can’t decide if…

The older we get, the less we know. Nothing is certain. We can’t decide what to have for breakfast, how to feel about our futures, whether almond milk is only for arseholes, or…

If the people out there, wearing pyjamas in public, have given up or taken control?

Do they need help? Or do we need help? Don’t answer that.

If folk who never leave home without a portable charger are brilliant or annoying?

We do not want to be those people. They are organised and efficient. They have not stashed every cable that they have owned since 1998 in a drawer. They are the sort to get cash back from swapping their iPhones when they upgrade. They are admirable. They are not that sexy. And yet that moment when we realise that we haven’t got enough battery to get through the commute… well, we’re not so fucking sexy either, now are we?

If vegans are magnificent or silly?

Are vegans saving the planet one nut at a time? Or are they orthorexics, impossibly smug and deeply suspect?

If naps make us feel brilliant or a bit shit?

Regular readers of the Midult will know that we are emphatically pro-nap. We seize every napportunity. We encourage lying down at every juncture. Hell, we are lying down now. BUT there is a sneaking suspicion that napping leaves us sweaty and unsatisfied as well as disrupting our whachamacallit rhythms. We don’t really want to discuss this. But we wonder…

If moving to the country will be life-changing good or life-changing bad?

Yes to fields and stuff. Fresh air. Eggs and dogs. Space, all the space. But will that counteract all the time we would have to spend trapped indoors trying to survive, or in a car, or wearing wellies and waterproofs, or joining committees complaining about evil developers wanting to build housing? Would that be great? Or should we just stay put with our window boxes and co-dependent relationships with the local boutique?

If rucksacks are acceptable or just not?

Practical, robust, better for our backs and freeing for the arms so we can do 27 other things while walking? Or impossible to carry off in any way other than: Hello fellow citizens, I am just heading to Box Hill with my metal detector and isn’t my thermos pretty?

If those crow’s feet make us feel characterful or haggard?

Some days we wear our wisdom proudly. We revel in the way that the ordinance survey of our face is shifting and deepening. Other days? *screams* *howls* *throws shit* *not actual shit* *not usually*

If jumpsuits make us look capable or desperate?

Are we completely empowered by a zip-up babygro, pounding our way through the day with a “can do motherfucker” attitude? Or are we really just wearing our nervous breakdown?

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