Thirty-five. It’s one of those useless in-between ages isn’t it? No longer am I a young(-ish) man of thirty, nor am my 'middle-aged' yet (or at least I don't feel as though I am, thank the lord).
Maybe these feelings have something to do with the fact that I can feel 40 looming on the horizon. Forty is definitely one of those ‘marker’ ages.
I never attached much significance to 30 but find myself increasingly thinking about the psychological implications of 40. Particularly in light of the need to feel like I am living the kind of life I want to be living, ie in a state of reduced compromise. Which certainly isn't the case now.
