What's this about, then?

‘Late bloomer’ would be a polite way to describe the teenage me: mirror shy, adrift in big plastic specs and BHS jumpers bought by Mum while my peers were going out and Doing Sex.

The adult me continued the theme, finally clocking at 33 that I was actually a big gay. And now, at 47, I find myself about to do all the stuff that a lot of people my age have done already.

I’m getting married. (In fact I’m getting civilly partnered, but that sounds like a thing you get spam called about to see if you want to launch a claim for compensation.)

We’re buying our first house. (I hope. We’ve been gazumped once. Annoyed to even know what that means.)

I’m working out what I want my career to look like, while my partner (the Doctor) does the same, all factoring in that we think if we’ve kept two cats alive this long that we might try keeping a small human alive as well.

And, well. I’m not the only one doing these things later, or for a second time, and finding the good and the bad about being Media Old in the face of trad life milestones and self-discovery.

Oh, and also my Dad died. I’m a writer. I’ve been writing children’s books for about twenty years. Can’t write books at the minute: they take an emotional bandwidth and concentration that grief is still eating. But I wrote a eulogy for him, and it made me think about using words not to tell stories about people I’d like to exist, but to reflect on and unravel ones that do, including me.

And what will it actually be about?

All of the above, plus me chatting to some other people who have done their own blooming in their own sweet time.

Coming up:

Thanks for joining me.

If any of this resonates with you and you’d like to be interviewed for Late Bloomer, drop me an email.