F this, We’re building a bar!

A knee jerk reaction to being in your thirties.

Yesterday we invited a few of our friends over for Sunday dinner. The hubby was very impressive I must admit, whipping up an amazing roast butterfly lamb with roast spuds, buttered broccoli, honeyed carrots and mint peas… very, very tasty. For desert, I made coconut meringue with lemon cream. We’ve obviously grown as a couple too, because I managed not to take over and control the meal, and he managed not to ask for my input or help… oh we’re just so mature!

That actually leads me on to what I noticed on the day… we are so totally and utterly in our thirties. Way to state the obvious eh? It does seem ridiculous, but stages of life do somehow manage to creep up on you, and then suddenly BAM, you’re talking about mortgages, buying fresh flowers in the market, and drinking coffee with butter in it (which of course we received endless slagging over).

I couldn’t help but be acutely aware of the fact that every aspect of our afternoon (that’s right, it wasn’t even an evening gathering) was just so ‘mature’. The group consisted of three married couples and a single guy. One couple has just bought a house and are expecting their first baby. The other bought a house a few years ago but are the most recently married. And the single guy, the eternal bachelor of the group, the guy still cool enough to pull off pints in a trendy bar on a Sunday afternoon… well even he is buying a gaff now.

Good cutlery and fine china. A toast with non alcoholic sparkling wine. Meat bought in the craft butchers, and vegetables from the farmers market. Oh what have we become?

And then, perhaps in a bid to remind ourselves that we once had lives, the conversation turned to ‘Do you remember when?’. Reminiscing about the piss ups, the parties, the nights we can’t quite remember. The time we got thrown out of this place, or couldn’t get into that place, or robbed a rickshaw, or stole a traffic cone, or lifted a parked car into the road. We laughed, remembering the maddest of the people we used to know. The ones who did the most outrageous things, the ones you wouldn’t invite to a family event for fear of what they might do.

But lets face it. The crazy guy who used to pull his lad out at every opportunity has matured too. He’s used his overexposed equipment to procreate, and has three beautiful kids as a result. So too has the wild girl who danced on bars and woke up in random lane ways. She’s the one who went on to have a hugely successful career. To buy her own house and fancy car without the help of any of the men she kissed in clubs or on street corners.

So it happens to us all. Messy nights become sound sleeps. Days nursing hangovers are now spent in DIY stores. Sloppy kisses are stable relationships building flat pack furniture. Rounds of shots are a few glasses of red and a good conversation.

There’s no escaping it… we’re in our thirties.

So what now to counteract a life doomed to play dates and dirty nappies? As the conversation continued the solution became clear. It’s time to convert the spare room or shed…

We’re building a bar!!*

* this is an entirely unique and original idea, thought up by us, only us, and no generation before us. We hold rights to convert a room/shed into a bar and use it at our free will until such time as our kids become teenagers and take it over, at which stage we’ll have moved on to the golf course and club house anyway.


Originally published at lifemystyle.com.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.