There Ain't No Devil, It's Just God When He's Drunk

I have the sneaky suspicion that I'm ageing, and for the record: I really don't like it. Back in the glory days of 21/22, it was almost nice being mistaken for someone older because it meant you didn't have to go through the hassle of fishing out your ID.

But then I came to the UK where the drinking age is 18. And let me say, it was wonderful never having to show ID, and when you did, you felt a little giddy because that meant you were totally looking hot- aka those bags under the eyes, the stark beginning so crows eyes, and the tired looking skin had magically buggered off and you were left looking and in turn feeling all spry and rejuvenated.

But now Scotland is facing a crazy problem with teen binge drinkers and in an effort to stop (besides trying to pass legislation to prohibit drinks specials in supermarkets), they are raising the age limit you have to look in order to buy alcohol. So even though you can still legally drink at 18, you are supposed to get ID'd no matter what if you appear to be of a certain age. First it was 21. Which totally scared the crap out of me because I had just returned to the UK and was very confused by all the red buttons on Tesco employees that proclaimed 'UNDER 21? I'LL NEED TO ID". I don't know why this bothered me, I was 22 at the time, but I still felt like time had somehow shifted me laterally into another age, and it took a bit to gather those familiar berrings again.

This time around, when I retured to the UK I was met with bright yellow signs announcing 'IF YOU LOOK UNDER 25 I HAVE TO ASK FOR ID'. 25?!?! I mean, sure, the drinking age is still 18, but are there really that many under 18yrs that look over 25? So when I approached the front counter and asked for a bottle of port (which ended up here), I was expecting to have to whip out the ol' dusty ID. Nope. And the crushing thing is that I'm 24. So I should look under 25. Meaning that yes, in fact, I just look old. Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

To make matters worse, I popped into Farmfoods on the way home for a cheap jar of pickled onions and bog roll and the kid behind the cashier desk CALLED ME MA'AM. Like I have kids or something. If there is any title someone can call you besides Mom and Grandma to make you feel like you're really old, it's ma'am.

Also, today I totally saw a bus crash into another bus. No, it wasn't nearly as awesomely exciting as the wreckage on the right, but there was quite a lot of noise as the two behemoths ground against each other, causeing light protectors to crumble into glitterly plastic pixie dust. Sooooo glad I wasn't in the drivers seat when that happened!