It has been an interesting few months.  I’ve been skiing, (see the post where my trousers didn’t fit), been to Budapest, back and forth to London a few times in the name of sanity – and I’ve been on a Segway; by far one of the scariest things I have ever done, because it involved displaying some form of aptitude for a physical pursuit in the great outdoors whilst manoeuvring round sticks, over wood chips – and you had to do it in front of others.

But in the event, I laughed like a drain whilst going round the whole course. I know this because there’s a video of it.  The Segway riding also more than made up for my ancient yet faithful Boden swimsuit sadly giving way in a hotel pool in deepest Cheshire and I’m hoping that anyone who had the misfortune to witness this has now started enjoying life again. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and if you saw a worried looking woman edging round the mock neo-classical pillars of the pool complex in a cotton-mix robe whilst clutching through it at a pair of shrivelled  “tankini” briefs, then it was probably me.

The first half of the year has also brought with it its fair share of realisations, often mulled over in airports.  The most obvious one is that Gatwick needs to sort out its air conditioning and Wi-Fi, and also that people wear some really interesting stuff in the North Terminal. My friend P calls these “holiday costumes”, citing his favourite as a woman who once had a pair of tracksuit bottoms tucked into knee high boots for a heady combination of comfort and glamour for the plane journey.

I had also thought that stag-do t shirts (with alliterative slogans) were the stuff of The Inbetweeners, but that’s not the case. I’ve lost count of the (somewhat depressed) looking stags and hens I have seen tramping round Gatwick, with orange t shirts on show and sometimes a sad-looking veil and sashes on display too – “Jenna’s Hen Party! Ibiza 2016!” for good measure.

More realisations have dawned from attending a few “significant age” birthday parties this year and by hearing the speeches that these events elicited. In some ways, they’re sobering affairs, but not intentionally.

Some of them were humorous, and some of them made me think about what we had hoped to achieve against what we feel we have actually achieved in our lives. At one of these great events, my great friend K spoke movingly about the things we must accept as we grow older, from not being Prime Minister (and she would be brilliant), to not being the weight we always thought we should be – or, worse still, what weight others think we should be. Here again I’m reminded of my ski holiday this year when a man my group had met said to a third party that “Sarah’s a lovely girl, she just needs to lose a bit of weight.” Privately, I agreed with him, but would have appreciated it if he had told me that on the chairlift himself!

I’ll admit that I feel a slight swell of panic about not achieving certain milestones.  I’m not married (always thought I would be, I’m great at organising things), I’m not a barrister (always thought I would be) and I don’t have any children (and can’t recall ever wanting any, although I love babies). I’ve worked out that the disappointment in not being either married or “called”, is because I must be oddly in love with the concept of public ceremonies whilst wearing long and outdated garments, where your achievements, inclusion and general fabulousness are acknowledged and recorded. And yes, I’m also cringing as I type this.

In truth, there are all certain dreams which we must all forego – the trick is to see what has replaced them as a great alternative, if not what we thought we would get – a bit like Brexit, and then Theresa May as PM.  I may be rubbish at law exams, but I’m told I’m good with people, I choose the wrong men (and there are some shockers in there), but I (usually) choose the right friends. I work with two charities which make me feel like I can make a bit of a difference and who make me feel grateful for what I have. I won’t ever be in the Olympics, but I have just gone back to the gym. More on that another time.

I also don’t write this blog nearly enough, but I do keep thinking about it  – and as I always say, the best is yet to come – or at least I hope it is. Thank you for reading.