I’m thirty in Septmeber 2018 and I’ve never really given much thought to getting older.
I’ve actually never had to think about my age at all; I was the youngest on my department in work, where the phrase “you’re just a baby!” was bounced around a hell of alot whenever I’d mention my age. Last year at college I was again one of the youngest in the group, and having two young nieces (6 and 4) that consider me as one of their mates has also made me feel alot younger than I actually am.
On my first day at MMU it became agonisingly obvious that I was a “mature student”.
I am the only mature student in our little group of Art History students; this was actually a concern of mine all through summer. I just knew that I would be stuck with a group of 18-20 year olds who I have absolutely nothing in common with for three years.
I over hear them saying things like “Oh my god I’m 20 next year!” and “I had to ring my parents to send me money cause I’ve spent my student loan already!” and it sickens me… I mean it’s really not their fault I’m sure that they are perfectly lovely kids but that’s exactly what I see them as… kids.
Maybe it’s just me being a miserable ageing cunt but I have nearly eleven years on some of my fellow students and sometimes I cant help but feel sorry for them. They know nothing of the real world and how they might have to work in a shitty dead end job to support themselves as artists after the security of university has been taken away…