Writing about web page http://www.warwick.ac.uk/~msrwab/dasies.html

I’ve just come back from a cycle tour around the south of Sweden, which was really good. It kind of got me thinking, though.

To put this in context, my mother is from that part of sweden, and when I was a child we always used to spend the whole summer there, first staying with my grandmother, and then once mum had her own stuga cottage there, staying there. It’s a lovely place in the forest – mum’s done a lot to improve it since she bought it.

When I was 17, though, my idea of a fun holiday was not sitting around the cottage while mum was doing all the things that needed doing, so I stopped going over for the summers. Instead, I visited just for a week, or a weekend, or whatever I could, flying over. Last year, I was only there for a few days.

So I see less and less of my family over there.

And the thing that I noticed this year, when I visited them, is how old everybody is. My grandmother is looking pretty frail, my uncle is getting some grey hair, my youngest cousin (who I still remember as being a child) is now in the marines.

But I guess that the real thing about this that suprises me is that it means that I must be “old” too now. I’m 25, I’m not quite sure how that’s happened. Last thing I remember, I was just starting at Warwick – naïve fresher. And now I’m approaching the end of my PhD, and I’m not entirely sure where the time has gone.

So I sit here in my office, thinking about chemistry or computers or my girlfriend or ex-girlfriends, I’ve got a car and a flat, and I realise that I’m supposed to be “an adult” now. After all, I’ve been alive for a quarter of a century, how hard can it be?

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