22 is the new 40

Phew! Its been long time since I last blogged but now most of the pressures of deadlines, shorthand and 8am mornings have abated for Christmas, I felt it was time to reappear. Now, Caitlin Moran has been one of my favourite bloggers since a friend introduced me to her column (thanks Lynn) and today I read with interest The pressure cooker lives of Amy Winehouse and Lily Allen.
I was interested because a. Lily Allen is pregnant which I found surprising, but I don't know why; b. because I like Caitlin Moran; and c. because I harbour a secret thought that me and Lily Allen could be best mates, if only she met me. However, I have to disagree with something Caitlin said that, yummy mummy as I'm sure she is, came entirely from a mindset that I would have expected from a less yummy, slightly jaded and jowly, granny. Her comment, "it would be hard for either Winehouse or Allen to appraise their situations with any measure of cool-headness. They’re 22, for God’s sake. Who knows anything at that age? You may as well expect a sane and productive life decision from a wooden cat," was reasonably witty but as a 22-year-old I feel I have to disagree. True, their life decisions, particularly Amy's, may not have been the best, but there is no accounting for taste. However, what has Lily done that is so bad? So she has only known boyfriend Ed Simons for three months but he's a Chemical Brother for god's sake - who wouldn't want to bed him? And accidents happen, whether you are 16, 44, or indeed, 22. Pregnancy is not the end of the world, and sometimes things are thrown at you in life that you just have to deal with. I do not say this merely as a 22-year-old who's self-percieved maturity has been wounded - although I can't honestly say there isn't a twinge of that - but because I should have thought Caitlin would have known better than to condemn a generation at the grand old age of 33.