Older & Wiser? Never!

I'll be 49 on Sunday. I could tell you about how my style has evolved and how my attitude to life has changed but that would be a lie. It hasn't. I'll still be out getting drunk in a dingy Walsall pub with the same mates I've had for years whilst wearing a lurid vintage outfit with big hair, high heels, trashy false lashes and the same shade of Barry M nail paint and neon pink lipstick I've worn since 1983. I'll dance to cheesy house music, laugh till my face hurts and finish the night in a curry house with the hottest vegetarian dish on the menu accompanied by a massive plate of chips and the cheapest rose wine on Asda's shelves. 

I'm happy living in the skin I've been in for the last half a century. I don't feel the need to change my ways, tone it down or grow old gracefully and all that tired old shit we're expected to do to once our wrinkles & grey hairs start offending the youngsters. To be honest, just like my attitude towards Xmas, Halloween and New Year I'm not really arsed about birthdays. Every day I get up is an event, I don't need Hallmark to dictate how I live my life.

Wearing: Vintage Tori Richards psychedelic maxi, 1980s purple suede boots, tribal jewellery and fake fur coat (handmade for me by Liz)

After last week's cut hand and busted ankle, Jon and I only have two pairs of fully functioning limbs between us and, as he can't drive and I can't carry, our usual activities have been somewhat curtailed. Not to worry, our week confined to barracks has been used wisely, we've booked flights to India.

Hindu temple, Madikeri, Coorg

As usual we've made no plans whatsoever. All we know is that we land in Goa and leave 31 days later. No accommodation, no itinerary, no feckin' clue. After a year of having each and every weekend accounted for, it's a month of complete & utter freedom. No internet access, no blogging, no social media, just us and a tatty old Rough Guide for company. 

Menenzes Braganza House, South Goa

Jungle palaces, temples, holy cows, deserted beaches, monuments, spice plantations, mountains, full moon parties, markets, rivers, oceans, spicy food and sunshine.

Agonda beach, Canacona, Goa

Trains, planes and buses, tuk tuks and taxis. I'm already squealing with excitement just looking at this year's photos.

The train to Mangalore

Travel is the whole reason behind the punishing 4am get-ups, eighteen hour days, the endless washing and mending, cutting & dyeing my own hair, patching up my second-hand boots, cooking from scratch & taking a packed lunch & a flask every time we go to work, terrestrial TV, market stall groceries and having a wardrobe that is entirely vintage & handmade. The sorry state the world currently finds itself in is no hindrance. We flew to Mumbai three days after the 2008 terror attacks, drinking in Leopolds and hanging round VT station and we couldn't have been made more welcome by the Mumbaikers. For us, life without travel would be too bleak an existence to contemplate. 

I'll mostly be spending this weekend tipping out suitcases, trying stuff on and planning my travel wardrobe (that's if tomorrow morning's inevitable hangover doesn't finish me off). 

See you soon!

Updated to link to Visible Monday with Patti & the gang.