The sine qua non test for every forty person – aka do I think getting a used condom up the wheels of my buggy outside Brighton Arts Club is impossibly glamorous or is it just another nail in the coffin of Western civilisation?
Once you would have loved the artistic demi-monde and its high alcohol and other substances-induced raffishness and decadence. Now you stay in an over-priced boutique hotel, can’t help noticing how everything’s terribly dirty, wonder how drinking wheat grass is going to change your life and if you ever really needed a felt handbag?
Congratulations, you’re over forty. Put it like this, your next step is probably a Jane Austen tour of Bath and a visit to an Edinburgh Woollen Mill Shop. It comes to us all.
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