I was invited on an evening out with a group of mums from the school. The invite said curry and drinks. I think it might be nice to make some social connections within the school community, saving me from the cold shoulder on the school run so I said yes. With just the right amount of alcohol inside me (not too much or I get a little, ahem, honest) I can pull off a convincing normal person who does not believe in or talk about pixies.

What I didn’t realise before I put down my deposit on the meal was that I would spend the next two weeks struck down with various versions of winter lurgy. First the flu (or at least man flu) then a tummy bug which has left me eating barely more than the odd banana for a couple of days. Fortunately I felt much better today and although I didn’t really fancy curry as my first proper meal thought I would at least make it out for a few hours. Possibly order some rice and a glass of water and show my face.

Then in a conversation with the organiser today it became apparent that the meal wouldn’t even be commencing until nine. That’s nine before we get to the restaurant, which means eating isn’t going to happen until at least nine thirty and consequentially I would definitely be late in bed!

So I spoke to the organiser about my situation. Mentioning that I would usually be in bed by 10 at the latest, and so obviously eating at nine is not an option for me. As I spoke it hit me how old and boring I am, and as my fellow mum responded I could tell she was thinking the same. Now obviously if I hadn’t been ill I would have gone regardless but it still wouldn’t have been my preferred timing. In fact a meal out with 20 other women is slightly my idea of hell anyway.

My ideal evening out would start at seven ish with a few good friends, possibly a restaurant. Better still a cinema or theatre being entertained rather than being expected to be entertaining. I would be home by nine thirty and tucked up cozy in bed by the aforementioned ten, perfect.

I do not like large gatherings (god forbid parties), hangovers, music that is too loud to talk, overpriced drinks, cold or uncomfortable clothing. I am not made to party, definitely not sober, and the hangover isn’t worth it these days.

So I am old and I am boring! I enjoy snuggling on the sofa with a good book, a glass of wine in front of a DVD and I love my slippers. Perhaps I will have a resurgence of youth when my children are grown and less demanding but if not I will be old and boring and proud.