Summary
I've been given another deadline. Not only must I renew my car insurance by the end of the month, but I must also have a child in the next seven years. The thing is I'm a little worried that my inability to cope with long-term deadlines might mean this is one I overlook. I'll reach 35 and look around and realise that I've neglected to pop a bun in the oven and by then it's all too late.
My body will have started crumbling, the oven will have turned itself off and I'll be one of those women who sit in parks, staring soppily at kids lamenting all through the 12 months of her 35th year that she decided to go on shopping holidays to New York rather than jump in the sack and procreate.See the full content of this document
Extract
Is There Ever a Right Time to Grow Up
I'll be everyone's favourite babysitter, the aunt to a brood of snotty-nosed kids, the one who buys the...
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