In their day, everything had been rosey and shiney and penny sweets existed, not these £2.60 for a bag of sugar and geletin that would rot your teeth whilst watching a film at the cinema. In their day they had been young flowery children of parents who wanted the best for their kids and had struggled to give them that. Now they didn't have to struggle like thier parents. Just lay back and reap the profits.
Their office jobs contrasted with the really really good old days of trouble up mill and working in a coal mine when you could eat a fried breakfast every day and somehow get away with it. These days you couldn't even eat a rasher of low fat low salt bacon with the rind snipped off with a pair of blue handled kitchen siscors. The desk job had lead to people doing bizzare things in a gym. Where men with unnatural muscles popping out of the wrong places strode trying to regain their masculin tendancies after being forced to hoover the floor by thier partners because they were too busy to do anything of the sort.
It was no longer a woman's place in the home. Juggling everything had proved to be too difficult, so those who couldn't weren't frowned upon when they made their choice to have the snip. Children were a far cry away or a denial of broodiness after watching a baby in a pram being pushed by proud parents. Proud parents who would not be able to leave their houses or go out and get outrageously drunk again, or even have a holiday in peace or without worrying if the person they'd left holding the baby wasn't a mass murderer or one of those nannies who would put the baby in the oven and turn up the heat, and then feed it to you when you got back from your trip however long or short it was.
They were at the settling down stage. The stage where they realised they had been sleeping around for long enough and that these short term relationships wouldn't keep them warm and fed when they were old and grey and wishing they had married the man or woman of their dreams. So now the women or men of their dreams had to be the ones they were going out with now, cos everyone was pairing up and there was no way that they would find anyone once everyone was in coupledom. It was as if this was it, the final moment where everything had to be complete and if it wasn't, you would be stuffed. You would be single, sitting in singles bars at 35, with a vodka and tonic in one hand a a cigarett dripping ash onto your trying to be sexy satin dress which would have fitted you 10 years ago, but doens't really now.
They were trying to be cultured and sophisticated. Attending dinner parties, visiting theatres, operas and the like. Travel took them further than the Lake District for a camping trip. They talked long worded sentances rather than the jabbered statements of their early twenties and teens. They were almost civilised, almost.
They were on the verge of finding what they were looking for. They had the money to do what they wanted to, and the enthusiasm to do it. Pay rises were what they were looking for, and promotion. And they knew how to get them. They were in jobs where they were wanted, in short supply, managers begging them to stay when they said they were quitting.
Their parties ended earlier than they used to. That was another indication that they were getting on a bit. By midnight, people started dropping off, falling asleep on the sceen. Usually after the consumption of alcohol that would have been thought of as wimpish in their youth. But now, the beer stayed in the fridge rather than being tilted down their throats.
Nightclubs were dodged at all cost, bearing in mind that they were usually populated or polluted by 13 year olds who had skirts that they had once dared to wear. The music couldn't be danced to. The drinks were too expensive and having to pay to get in? Now that was taking the biscuit. Nowadays a nice night in in front of the TV was a refreshing change.
Socialising had become a chore rather than a pleasure as weekend after weekend was spent socialising with people that they had to get on with despite thier differences. At ponsey parties where you had to meet new people and climb that social ladder. But visiting friends made a pleasant change from the dull dreary desktop pals that they were forced to play with every weekday at work, like squabling children all wanting their own way and not wanting to share their toys with anyone. Once they had a home to look after and be house proud of, and have to spend time re-decorating, then they had the excuse note written by their mummies permitting them not to attend the parties they were invited to because they were too busy at home, except the note didn't say that, it said a little white lie. It probably read something to the effect that they had been invited to another party ages ago on the same day and were really sorry but they couldn't make it. But this excuse wasn't allowed to be used officially until the house, mortgage, decorating, fixing up, extending... ritual had begun.
Breaktimes got shorter. Sometimes they wished they smoked just so they could leave the building to have a well deserved fag break, but they prefered to keep their lungs clean, and therefore missed out on this wonderful opportunity. Holidays were scarce, and they all longed for the long summer breaks offered to them by thier university and schools.
