Thursday 23 April 2009

Restricted entry!

Every time I am invited to a party or get together in a pub/nightclub I need to carry an ID (has to be a passport as I dont own a licence and nor am I a student) to flash at the bouncers. I tut tut about their inability to see through the appearance in to the wiser and older me but within I have a smug grin brimming. Its a real nice feeling when people say or think that you don't look your age. S thinks I always expect to be asked for an ID and I have never been disappointed. Not sure what I would do when my wish to stay young is overruled by the weary years settling themselves, slowly, on me.

However the heights of it was when I was asked for an ID in ASDA to buy a set of harmless knives. Naturally I did not expect that and was not armed with my passport. I had to fumble in my bag for all sorts of cards and didn't find anything that could rescue me out of the sticky situation. Thankfully a few assurances and pleads later the nice lady let me have them. I either looked young or looked like a gangsta!! Hmmmm..

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