The end of an era

There have been new ends to old eras lately. 

Firstly, my mother has finally caved and acquired a cell phone! This woman has resisted the technological bandwagon since people started playing Snake on their Nokias. Her rationale  - "i survived this long without a phone, so why would I need one now?" Though my compass tends to point to her when searching for the voice of reason, this particular logic fails to represent her finest body of work.

First of all mom, they barely even had cars back then, so what are you gonna do these days when you're somewhere off the interstate and your whip breaks down? Pull out your Thomas' Guide to find the nearest highway phone booth, and pop in your quarter? Call your daughter collect? Do you even have my thirteen digit London number memorized? To be fair, she is an engineering genius and would probably just fix the rig herself with a sewing kit. 

Secondly, your logic holds disregard for the impossibility of functioning in a world without two factor authentication. You must accept that Facebook is not going to send your login verification code to the landline (which by the way, isn't even cordless!). How will you post all those macro photos of the backyard plants or last night's fennel salad without it?

Thirdly, even in absence of these fatalistic practicalities, what about the deficit of wellness applications in your life? I survived the terror of many hospital night shifts thanks to the campfire soundscapes of my myriad wellness apps. They really help quiet the noise of a mind on tenterhooks. You know Meghan even has one that allows you to titrate your own combination of healing sounds to the perfect soothing effect- 20% interstellar rocket jet, 40% oscillating body fan, 20% amazon basin rainstorm, 10% grecian summer cicada, 5% los angeles city ambulance, 5% brown (not white!) noise. 

Anyway, all these points are now moot because you've finally signed a deal with the devil like the rest of us mortals. Since acquiring her new device, Mum has impressively taken technological leaps, mostly in her mastery of emoticon, although she still requests I ring her on skype via her Dell desktop, lest she "get too much radiation" cradling the cellular too close to her temporal lobe. (I promise she got her covid vaccines and does not wear tin foil on her head except when coloring her own hair.) 

Another era ended at Shepton Mallet this June when I attended Glastonbury festival. That was the end of the era of never having been to a festival before. Some would argue I've still never "properly" been to a festival because I remain street drug naive. Maybe one day I will pop my drug cherry. Lately I've been curious about tripping on acid because of the way people describe the connectedness they get to experience. I am desperate for this. Earlier this spring whilst out riding my bicycle and dressed in a caramel colored teddy hoodie, I spotted a cockapoo taking a shit. It was actually so windy that day I got a downstream wiff of his poo. What followed that afternoon was my own pilgrimage with violent gastroenteritis. Coincidence or connectedness? I thought we looked alike in our matching curly coats and glassy plush toy eyes, but the poo connection was really something extra by way of unification with the animal kingdom. Is this what LSD is like?

But back to Glastonbury for a second. You know, I had been warned again and again about festival toilets, particularly day 4 festival toilets. This is not a place that makes you feel clean, and it is definitely not a place you want to be negotiating with your period. I started my period on day two. I experienced another episode of connectedness to that Lauren Mayberry of CHVRCHS whilst she was on stage, splattered in red paint à la rock n' roll and I was hovering over the latrine with my dangling tampax. what a vibe! the toilets weren't even that bad. Highly recommend. 

Lauren Mayberry, Twitter

Another era which appears to have come to an end is my active dating life. What I mean is... I have a boyfriend(!). And no I did not get back together with my "ex" (is it really an ex if it was only a few months and now your demented brain can barely recall their last name?) although I did bump into that particular fellow on a flight to Seville back in May. To be honest, the run in wasn't much of a shock because I was the one who had booked those flights to go together way back when we were still pretending to like each other. He went off to his friends Spanish birthday party and I decided to go to Spain anyway with Janie and make it about a girls trip. I had checked us both in and specifically arranged for our seats to be on opposite sides of the plane. But British Airways had other plans for us and some sinister agent from the underworld pushed our seats back together between check in and boarding. How is this even possible? What is the name for the opposite of divine intervention? Anyway, we were polite and made small talk until he fell asleep. I subsequently wrote BA a scathing email and received a 100 pound voucher for the inconvenience. Now my focus is on trying to understand the five year identity shift from bachelorette to girlfriend, which at my age feels as serious a designation as marriage. Let's see. 

And finally, the most recent era to have taken to close is that of my twenty year hustle toward professional medical licensure. A couple weeks ago I sat my final specialty board exams, which if passed, will mark the final exam of my life, providing I don't decide medicine was all a big mistake and it's time to start the process of re-identification as a lawyer. Results out later this month. Mom, I'll call you on skype once I know.