Ailments. Wrinkles. Babies. Weddings. Every time one of my friends speaks to me, it seems to be about one of these issues. Increasingly so. And I love it. Not because any of these topics appeal to me, but rather because it’s a tangible reminder that we are all getting older, and I am genuinely enjoying this process. Here are three quick anecdotes.

Denial

I ran through the plan as I climbed the stairs: she’d open the door, we’d hug, and I’d distract her in order to slip a nondescript plastic bag into the spare bedroom. I felt like a secret agent, only the drop to be made here wasn’t sensitive information. It was a carrot cake.

Mission accomplished, Sara’s birthday party was going swimmingly. It was, that is, until she announced that we’d to leave for that most dreaded of places: the club. One year into my thirties, I now know that a club is no place for me. Not because of my age —I’m not suggesting that us old biddies can’t enjoy a night out—, but because turning thirty has allowed me to distinguish what I enjoy from what I don’t, and clubs definitely fall into the latter. But my love for Sara outweighs my distaste for partying, so into a taxi I climbed and onto the dance floor we strode.

Four hours later and the greasy Burger King table around which we had coalesced was bearing witness to some of the deepest philosophical discussions of our time. Although I don’t enjoy being jostled around for hours on end, there’s a lot of joy to be found in the conversations held in the smoking area or over a post-club burger. These late-night conversations with friends are magical, even when they eventually end with the greatest thinker the 21st century has to offer: some random taxi driver.

Acceptance

Locating Izzy in the middle of Madrid wasn’t going to be a tough one: she’s a shock of blonde in a sea of dark hair. Then there’s her dress code, which is limited to a palette of blacks and dark greys, the latter for when she’s feeling adventurous. This penchant for dark clothes hasn’t changed a bit since we both met at university.

But certain things have changed since then. Life has thrown a lot at us: we’ve seen pandemics, wars, reunions, and weddings. With all of these changes, and despite the unwavering love we share, there was a certain apprehension on my part as we sat down for a cocktail and our first proper conversation in years. I was worried that we might have fallen out of sync.

Over margaritas, anecdotes, and tapas, my fears soon dissipated. As we talked about the importance of disconnection and the benefits of spontaneity, we both realised that we’d matured together and in the same direction. It was wonderful. I saw that nothing about growing old and wise is better than getting to do it alongside your friends. And, funnily enough, one of the things we’d both realised is the need to just let change happen.

Defiance

It was certainly a change to see Heidi on her own. We met in a shared flat, formed a friendship group, and she’s now often accompanied by her partner and daughter. It’s not very often I have one-on-one time with Heidi, so it felt almost odd to have her arrive at my flat alone.

We then spent the next few days visiting our old haunts in the city that brought us together all those years ago. On the final evening of her visit, our feet tired from all the walking, I suggested we drive back to my flat. We hopped into a rental car, connected my Spotify to the stereo, and set off home.

Only we didn’t go home. With throwback tunes from the Vengaboys and Steps, a wave of nostalgia buoyed us out of the city and onto the motorway, where we belted out these karaoke classics without a care in the world. As day faded to night, we sang ourselves hoarse and laughed ourselves silly.

I think both Heidi and I needed that little moment of escapism. We needed to head in no particular direction, scream silly lyrics into the air, and forget about being adults for a while. We’re both perfectly content, but that doesn’t mean we don’t occasionally need to release some of that childlike energy.

So, in good company, we do. We laugh, we dance, and —even though we’re driving around in circles— we sing about going to Ibiza.