At 41, I had a baby. Followed 17 months later by another... and all the life-skewing, skin-flaying emotions they have brought with them... so, what next? I set up my own business and Big Fish Little Fish Productions - running family club events on weekend afternoons - was born. A micro-festival for the post-rave generation of parents and children.
I'm hurtling towards my 42nd birthday. It's not even around the corner, it's standing right in front of me with a mean look on it's face and it's punching one fist into the palm of it's other hand. It looks like trouble, it looks like it means trouble and for all intents and purposes, it most probably is trouble.
Are we just being spoiled whiners, as older generations would no doubt label us? I'm not so sure. Our parents' generation had a solid understanding of what they were supposed to be doing at every stage of their life, until they hit their fifties and realised it had all been too planned out and they hadn't enjoyed their youth to the fullest.