So this is 27

What I know for sure and what I suspect

Twenty-seven. Past my Leonardo di Caprio sell-by-date. Firmly in the X-Factor Over-25s category. The age associated with tragic losses like Amy Winehouse and Kurt Cobain. My fertility will be on the downward slope by now. There are positives in this article, I promise.

I’ve always found birthdays a tricky concept to get my head around. It’s a lovely opportunity to claim the centre of attention and get together with loved ones, but what is it exactly we are celebrating?

On the most basic level: being born and surviving this long. On other levels… maturity? Wisdom? Achievements? Perhaps, although such thoughts have rarely penetrated the champagne and cake induced hazes of my own past birthdays.

This year I thought I would indulge in some such reflection, because I think — and the irony is you can never be sure until you’ve lived longer — my “late twenties” are proving to be some of my most formative years.

In many ways, my life to date has come full circle. I’m not back in nappies or finger-painting, but I’m much closer to my young self than I was in my teenage years. Self-acceptance and diminishing social anxiety is drawing me ever closer to the precocious, book-obsessed, antique-enthusiast of a history-nerd I was.

The awful teenage years — and they were pretty awful, to be honest — are a kaleidoscope of competing influences, from parents and teachers to the good friends and the bad ones and the hell-scape of adolescent boys.

I care much less about what anyone else thinks now, so I’m free to embrace the status of a crazy cat mum who never stops learning, wears clashing colours and makes the occasional scene in beer gardens.

On a deeper level, I have also cultivated my own set of guide-rails. These are things I know to be true, at least in my field of vision. Staying roughly true to these tends to yield good results.

I feel like I’ve spent the last five years in a rock polisher (this was legitimately one of my childhood hobbies), whirling around and shedding more and more of that which doesn’t serve me — false ideals, toxic friendships, insecurities — all while grasping ever-tighter to these emerging ‘truths.’

So, what’s changed and how does life look now?

I no longer measure success the same way

I set my sights on everything from being a marine biologist or famous author, to a newsreader or barrister between the ages of about 12 and 21. I put myself under an enormous amount of pressure academically and made myself really quite miserable at times. Part of this is an innate work ethic which is still part of me and not something I’d wish to lose, but part of it was also a blind pursuit of those things I thought would bring money, clout, fame, or some combination of all those. Much of that pursuit was driven by peer comparison, the school system, and the many myths society and popular culture filter into us.

Leaving London at 21 was one of the best things I ever did, though I didn’t know it at the time. I was driven out by the pandemic — out of my student flat, where I lived while completing my masters degree and working night shifts in radio for paltry sums — and back to my family home.

The months of enforced reflection that followed made me realise I didn’t want to mindlessly grind amidst the rat race while struggling to pay rent for a crumbling flat. After years spent looking ahead to London, where everyone I knew went after school or university, I realised I was already done with the city.

Next came a hodge-podge of marketing jobs in the Cotswolds — somewhere I’d never visited before in my life. My mind was still a jumble of confusion when it came to ‘what I wanted to be when I’m older’ and it’s only recently I’ve realised that such a concept will likely be parallel with, rather than equal to, a day job.

What I want to be is financially stable, with the mental freedom to pursue creative projects, volunteer for causes I care about, and spend time with my partner, cats and friends. This is a delicate state to be in, and I’ve spoken about misalignment burnout before, but I’ve made strides recently in carving out time to shape and live the life that fulfils me alongside the constraints of a full-time corporate job.

I have no interest in climbing the ladder, glamourising long hours, or making six figures. This life is fleeting, and that’s not how I want to spend it.

Being kind is not just for others, but for me

My temper has always been part of me, and probably always will. I am a loving and loyal friend, but I have limited capacity for bullshit and have been known to bite heads off either in my own defence or that of someone else. I am more or less allergic to injustice of any sort, from bullies in the playground to those in the White House.

But I’ve also learnt that the cortisol spike that comes with an impassioned outburst or confrontation tends to leave me feeling worse than if I just remove myself from the situation and take a few deep breaths. On a day-to-day level, it’s part of life to come across unpleasant people and this is something I’ve struggled to understand in the past. The older I get, the more I realise this reflects unhappiness on their part and it pays to remember this when interacting with them.

Unfortunately, I’ve also learnt that a total lack of empathy or understanding on someone’s part will not prevent them from rising to CEO of a company* — especially if they’re male. But hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day and I hope to see seismic change to the workplace in my lifetime.

*Was there something about a Coldplay concert the Internet recently?

I’m so glad I’m a woman

I’m kind of surprised this is one of the things I now know to be true, because on the face of it womanhood only gets worse as you get older. Myself and some of my friends have had some considerable battles with ‘women’s health’, against the backdrop of a system not built for us and professionals who don’t have the knowledge to advise us properly.

Someone at work will label you hysterical or emotional at some point, you will miss out on an important opportunity because it involves a day of golf, and you will have to struggle 10x as hard to disentangle your appearance, style and interests from your professional life.

But goodness me, I wouldn’t trade the the direct and indirect community being a woman places you in for the world. From the line of female ancestors, each trying to do a better job of being a mother than the last, to the mentors who have shaped my career to date, to the friends I’ve had for decades and those I’ve had for just a few months, I simply wouldn’t be the person I am without them.

On a more trivial level, women have got it good. Granted, I’m not exactly a tom boy, so I’m absolutely talking about shopping for dresses, swapping makeup, drinking Aperol spritz by the gallon, making new friends in the toilet and having someone to wipe away your tears or tell you your label is hanging out.

Long live the sisterhood.

I have no interest in (party) politics

Growing up I found politics interesting and by my teenage years I conflated it a great deal with my own identity and that of those around me. I now allocate little to no energy to blue and red ties and backbenchers and rebels and Mr Speaker. In fact, it all seems completely absurd. It’s virtually impossible to separate political outlooks from personal circumstances, naturally, and so the vitriol that exists on both sides is as futile as yelling at one another from different planets.

What I have come to care far more about is the macro and the micro. It’s difficult to change the macro — climate change, wars, socio-economic inequalities — but it’s even harder to ignore these issues because they are so seismic. What I can’t stomach any more is the Old Etonian merry-go-round of picking fights over solving problems. I’m not apathetic or disenfranchised, I’ve just learnt to separate the issues from the theatre.

Then there’s the micro. I’m beginning to understand why, growing up, elderly people cared about distributing the village gazette, campaigning to save the local primary school and protesting the felling of an ancient tree. Firstly we actually have some agency in these settings, but these small changes and ‘moments’ also show how impactful being part of a community is on our own wellbeing. I’m convinced this is how to stay sane in a world that has quite literally gone mad.

Buying stuff makes me feel worse, not better*

Looking back at some of the trends and societal pressures I’ve fallen for makes me want to hide under a rock. To give myself grace, it’s very, very difficult to resist this sort of pressure when you’re a teenager and then a young woman in the age of Instagram.

You’re made to believe that a ‘capsule wardrobe’ needs jeans and t-shirts in every colour, cashmere knitwear and several hundred pounds worth of trainers. Then there’s the other stuff; the collagen skincare, the claw clips, the hair stylers, the ‘magic’ beauty products, the vitamins and supplements… the list goes on.

I can list on one hand the things I’ve bought in the last year that I genuinely love: the suede notebook that launched this newsletter, a beautiful mosaic headband from Palma, a funky charm bracelet from Stow-on-the-Wold and a staple black linen dress. Of the rest? Some of it is necessary for work, exercise or other pursuits, but most of it is detritus destined for the charity shop in a few years.

*The exception to this is books. My insatiable capacity for buying and reading books has worried me over the last few years, but ultimately nothing brings me so much joy. We are allowed that, surely.

I never want to live without animals again

I appreciate they’re not for everyone — and you absolutely shouldn’t keep pets if you cannot ‘keep’ them properly — but I never again want to live in a home that’s not shared with animals. I had a string of Springer Spaniels growing up who were always there to greet me at the end of a rough school day and join in with family celebrations, and I missed the proximity to pets during my university and rental flat years so much it was like missing a limb.

The plot twist is I got two cats, rather than a dog, when the opportunity finally arose. Merry and Pippin are quite literally the centre of our universe, and if you must add something to your house make it a living creature — they have the best return on investment. You can read about my journey to becoming a cat person here.

What were your most formative years, and why?