So, I'm 21 years old and I have to say I have had a largely enjoyable and successful elongated birthday weekend, with many happy and joyful moments. Friends and family joined in and a good time was had by all.
It all started on Friday I suppose, when the Family Mitten drove to a lovely country pub called 'The Green Man' in Olney, Buckinghamshire, England, Europe, The Earth to enjoy the most amazing slap-up meal I have ever encountered. We had a laugh and a joke, I consumed free Jack Daniels and the Canadian waiter was the joker in the pack, so as family occasions go, this was certainly a good one.
I was in a good place on that Friday evening. I had a whole weekend off in front of me, filled with what was going to be a whole weekend of cricket and socialising, around people making an extra effort to make it special for you. You always have to appreciate that.
Saturday morning then appeared, and after a lot of overnight rain, it looked as if the first instalment of the cricketing weekend was touch and go. Seeing as I am captain these days, including Organiser-in-Chief, I went down to do a pitch inspection and decided that we were fine to play. The match itself was on the frustrating side, bordering infuriating, as players I had picked deciding to turn up late without telling me, making us look incredibly "village", (beware of cricket terms). After half an hour of 'faffing around', we got down to business, and restricted Great Barford to a total of 182, which was above par for the swamp we were playing on. We only managed 150 in reply, with myself getting a meagre 10 of those, meaning my usual start-of-season stupor had yet to be surpassed. In all fairness though, after the frustration of the day, I was looking forward to going home and watching the Champions League Final with Kettle and enjoying a Dominos! We then went out with Marriott, (already a wee bit tipsy from celebrating Chelsea's win) and enjoyed a good night! Many had presumed I was to go all out, considering it was the "Big 2-1", but I genuinely think I am passed the days of going nuts on a night out. These 'Jagerbomb Tricks' and shots of Wray are the acts of teenagers. I'm getting old you see, and genuinely feel like I cannot handle these antics anymore!
When I got home, at roughly 3 o'clock in the morning, I was presented with a house covered in '21' banners and flags. Despite the claims I am "too old for this", I was of course a bit drunk, so laughed as I opened the front door, and went upstairs to see a bunch of '21' balloons littering my bed. The idea being that if I was THAT drunk, I would lie on them and they would pop, making me have a heart attack. Nice thinking Sister Mitten, but it wasn't to be. However, it is incredible that after all the mess that I've put them all through the last few years, that they still make the effort to make my birthdays special. I went to sleep, for the 2nd night in a row, with a smile on my face.
I awoke on Sunday morning, hangover-less, (which is a nice feeling isn't it!), and went downstairs to a chorus of 'Happy Birthday'! I opened the cards I had received, along with its contents of a bit of much-needed money and also a very thoughful gift from Sister Mitten of a pair of VIP tickets for a tour of Lord's cricket ground. The majority of the day though, I have to admit, was annoying. Nothing to do with birthday events, but instead the cricket match I was playing in. I had been left as captain again, because our usual captain has some strange arrangement meaning he can't play "unless we're very desperate". I was left thinking how desperate we needed to be before he played, because at the official start time of 2pm, we had a grand total of 8 players. Although we batted first, (with me getting my season going with a patient 48), by the time we went out to field, we still had 8 players. Defending 165 was possible with a full team, but it is impossible to win with 8, and we were comfortably beaten. I was left pondering whether I had wasted a complete day, my 21st birthday, by playing for a side that no one can be bothered to turn out for. If it happens again, I'm moving on. I can't be doing with chasing players every single game because the communication is so poor.
I went home a little bit grumpy, but told myself there was little I could do about it and reflected on the positives. I had finally got some runs, and hopefully next weekend will be better! With the forecast finally set to 'Summer', it will at least be warmer!
And then we come to today. I woke up incredibly late, and effectively spent the day walking round town and then enjoying a game of snooker with CC, where I squandered a 4-1 lead to draw 4-4 before we were kicked out for closing time. Since I have got home though, realising that the end of my mini-holiday has come to an end, I have started feeling bad again...
It's almost as if I am allergic to work. Ever since I left at 1.30pm last Wednesday, I have been happy, (forgetting the frustrations of cricket), but the last few hours have been ABSOLUTE torture. I don't mind going to work. Of course, I have little choice. It has to be done. But last week, I learnt more procedures I now have to follow, on my own, and once again, I am left feeling unbelievably anxious and terrified of getting it wrong. When I say 'terrified', I don't mean 'a little nervous', I mean terrified beyond belief. I have spent the last couple of hours lying in the darkness telling myself that these things haven't happened yet, and I'm worrying over nothing but I CANNOT forget about it. I hate it. I absolutely despise myself for it, yet there is nothing I can do except "manage it". That is what I call it. "Managing it". Reminding myself that there are good times and bad, good stages and bad stages and, "It'll be alright", but throughout the times where I think this, I can't get past the "what ifs" and the "worst possible scenario" thing that goes on in my destroyed brain. What if tomorrow, I send off £30k instead of £20k, inputting it wrong on the system, and sending the whole office into disarray? What if I miscount something and roll over the figures completely out of shape? What if a customer comes along with yet another new type of form and I am left floundering at what the hell to do with it? What if... What if... What if... It sounds childish, silly and pathetically sad, but I'm bordering on tears at the prospect of an awful day that has the potential, however small, to actually happen.
I might now be 21 years of age, but sometimes I really do wish I was back at school. No one expected you to single handedly run 2 cricket teams. No one expected you to act responsibly at all times, and most importantly, no one expected you to be solely responsible for the destination of a huge amount of money, and expect you to do it perfectly. Growing up is bloody well difficult.
And I hate it.
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