You know you’ve hit a mid-life crisis when you’re in love with Phil Collins

I never thought I’d have to admit this but I think I’ve finally succumbed to a mid life crisis. This is not something I’m proud of but you know what? I’ve shared most of my trials and tribulations over the years so why not a bit mid life angst?

It’s been coming on for a while but it’s only when I developed a recent obsession with Phil Collins that I knew the game was up. When I say an obsession, what I really mean is that I think I’m in love with him.

I’m constantly thinking about him, his greatest hits is on repeat on my Spotify list and I conjure up this day dream regularly where I go see him in concert and he brings me up on stage to sing In The Air Tonight to me while I sit on top of his piano flaunting the legs of a 20 year old that certainly don’t belong to me in real life.

Then there’s the little Fiat 500 convertible that I invested in a few months ago. A car I could ill afford and as a mother of two children and a dog, it is probably the most impractical car I could have bought.

But I found myself outside the school collecting the children with the roof down ..... in February, waving frantically at my offspring while they did their best to pretend they didn’t know me.

‘What is wrong with you?’ hissed the Eldest. ‘Put that roof up NOW!’ he ordered, covering his face with his hands. A few days later I developed a bad cold. I was told it served me right for being a show off.

And last week I bought a pair of white leather buckled ankle boots. They are the boots of a twenty year old…at a push and make me look like I have cankles but still I wear them, admiring my Topshop clad feet as I walk.

The Eldest described them as hideous. ‘They are THE worst boots I have ever seen. AND you’re too old for them.’ This criticism only makes me want to wear them more despite the fact I secretly know I’m making a Holy Show of myself.

I decide that maybe this will be the year that I finally go to Electric Picnic, despite the fact I have never heard of any of the acts (Cigarettes After Sex?!).

‘You do know that you’ll have to camp….like in a tent – proper camping,’ Himself clarifies.

‘Your boots will get destroyed’ says the Eldest laughing hysterically at thoughts of me parading through the mud in my white boots.

Whatever about having a hypothetical affair with Phil Collins, buying an unsuitable car and wearing boots fit for a teenager, Electric Picnic is a step too far.

Maybe we can go to see Phil Collins instead!

I DECIDE THAT MAYBE THIS WILL BE THE YEAR THAT I FINALLY GO TO ELECTRIC PICNIC, DESPITE THE FACT I’VE NEVER HEARD OF ANY OF THE ACTS