On being grown-up, one problem at a time

[desperance]

So. When I die, some well-meaning friend impressed with their own perspicacity is going to stand up at my funeral and say, "It seems to me that Chaz was always a little ... daunted by the world."

At which point all my old friends will roll eyes at each other and mutter, "Well, d'uh!" as they contact their inner teenager.

Myself, I wouldn't say daunted, I'd say frightened. Sometimes badly frightened. Recently it's been - well. Getting pretty bad. I've not been coping much, even with that limited range of things that I expect myself to do.

But. Stuff has to be done; some deadlines are immutable. And what I reckon is, I can get by, I can get there if I just do one grown-up thing a day, deal with one problem.

If I get it done early in the day, that's a bonus.

So today, I have solved the London Problem (part one): getting myself to Heathrow for a flight to California. I have booked and bought a startlingly cheap ticket for an overnight coach that - barring catastrophe - will bring me to the centre of London by six-thirty. By which time the Tube will be running, and I can get out to Heathrow with time to spare.

(Actually, I confess, this doesn't feel grown-up at all. It feels positively teenage, catching a midnight bus to adventure...)

(And, yup, scary. But not paralysing-scary, which is a plus.)