You’d think that at 31, having birthed 3 sprogs, been married then divorced, mortgaged up, 2 step kids and numerous pets – that I might consider myself a fully fledged adult. WRONG! Like many people I’ve asked on this subject, it’s not that I feel like a kid, but I certainly don’t feel like I’ve reached the peak of my grown-up-ness. Worringly, even my mum – a whole generation of adultier-ness above me, still doesn’t feel there yet. But perhaps being a grown-up isn’t a state, a bit like happiness, it’s fleeting moments; moments where it really feels as though I’ve got my shit together and I can do this – without doing a silly dance, asking for a straw with my coke or throwing a (discreet) tantrum when our local ice cream parlour runs out of cherry flavour on a particularly I-need-cherry-kinda-day ).

So, here’s my list of moments when I feel top of my adult game – in the vague hope, some of you might also feel the same about our severe lack of acknowledging our responsibilities and always hoping there will be an adultier adult to deal with the crap post fan-hit.

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