If You Could Choose An Age To Stay At Forever, What Age Would It Be?

Post 122

From pictures, to bicycles, to age: truly, this micro-blog has come a long way from the first three questions. What were they? Habits, health, philosophy. Hmm. No, it hasn’t. And that’s the way I like it. To babble on and on whilst trying desperately to think of an answer.

It is a good question, I suppose. I think it’s a good question because it makes you think. What age did I most enjoy being? It raises an interesting point because I can’t remember anything. I’m really forgetful. I tend to see my life in the four or five stages that have dominated it. Before nursery. Nursery. Primary. Secondary. College. Unemployed bum. In primary, I was finding my feet. Working out who I was. Secondary would be a good contender but it tanked drastically. So, college, huh? Okey-doke.

College (not university) was quite fun. Lessons were sporadic so there was lots of sitting around, but I did get to spend quite a lot of time with a variety of interesting characters. To go to a variety of interesting places. To shout at golfers on the nearby golf course. To hurtle around our suburbs and town centre in a car driven by a crazy fool who could barely drive. It was a fun two years. Free. No worries. Flickers of confidence. I got to be myself.

What age would you choose, readers?

Ciao :)(:

(I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. To do so, you can leave a comment by pressing the bubble on the top right of this post and scroll to the bottom of the new page to where it says ‘leave a reply’. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s