Old at heart

It's been a while folks, but there's a good reason for my neglect of you. I was back in Ireland for a college reunion, had several restaurants to review and two days ago, I moved house. Thankfully, I've the day off work to recover and fill you lovely readers in on my latest endeavours.

I am in love with my new apartment. Most of Sunday was spent opening the mirrored concertina doors of my built-in wardrobe, watching the light inside automatically switch on, jumping into the closet to marvel at the space, then getting out and repeating the process. I also derived immense pleasure from fiddling with the controls on our Craftmatic Adjustable Bed (yes, you read that correctly). Before you judge me, the bed came with the gaff. I am prone to muscle fatigue, but have no mobility issues as of yet.

We also have an old-fashioned writing desk in the living room. I've been meaning to write a strongly worded letter to British Gas, concerning an unpalatable bill they recently sent us, but I haven't had the necessary implements, until now.

The only downside to our new abode (besides the apartment block caretaker who is, rather disturbingly, attempting to channel Jack Nicholson in The Shining) is a seeming lapse in The Boyfriend's sense of propriety. He is so entirely comfortable in his new habitat, he's taken to walking around the apartment in his underwear. While constructing Beth's Ikea furniture the other day, his new get up was accompanied by a beer in hand. Clearly, we'll be having chats.

We'd planned to spend the first night in with Beth's boyfriend, who was over from Paris to help with the move. He brought some champers and chocolates with him and the four of us settled down on the sofa to watch X Factor, Beth and I clad in fluffy dressing gowns, our men in their slippers. On re-entering the room after an ad break, I surveyed this horrifying display of middle age and, not quite ready for pureed food and incontinence pads just yet, I persuaded everyone to get up and dressed, slapped on that Black Eyed Peas song that seems to get today's 'yoof' excited and we hit two parties, one of which was in a squat.

Human art installations, psychedelic light shows, sinks overflowing with moudly dishes and abstract conversation on abstractism – is this how one parties these days? I tried my best to embrace it, even attempted a spot of shape throwing, but I must admit, I longed to get back to my geriatric bed.

We grabbed a kebab on the way home, another stab at forcing nostalgia for our wilder days but the smoked salmon in the fridge was calling me.

I crawled into bed to finish my novel for tonight's Book Club. Yes, I am a sad old fart (in a hot young body) but look at it this way- I'll probably have my mid life crisis behind me before I get married. So, while your kids are cringing at your cliched attempts to stay young at heart, I'll genuinely be the coolest parent on the block.