Is It Just Me, Or Has The Pandemic Turned You Into A Middle-Aged Millennial, Too?

I've lived in East London for seven years, but like a lot of people, when the pandemic hit, my fiancé and I decided to leave the city. We spent seven months away; half with his mother in the suburbs, and half with mine in South Wales. I missed London terribly. I missed queueing to get a table at the latest sought-after restaurant; making best friends with strangers in pub toilets; and dancing to Tina Turner ‘til the sun came up.

But since we’ve come back, I’ve found myself longing for our lockdown life. I’ve yearned to go back to a time where the biggest decision I had to make was whether I get this week’s delivery from Tesco or splash out on Ocado. Things were simpler, and it’s got me thinking - is it just me, or, has the pandemic turned everyone into a middle-aged millennial?

I used to go out a lot. I wasn't 'out out' every night, but there was always a drink after work that resulted in an 11pm Uber home and a broken night’s sleep. It never occurred to me how exhausted this was making me, it’s just how I operated. To celebrate my first week back in London, I organised various meetups with friends. But after being out three nights in a row, I cancelled the rest of my plans. I was knackered; my skin was blotchy, I was bloated, and I kept waking up in the middle of the night with an onset hangover.

I’ve always had a stammer, but it was becoming more apparent. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or excess booze, or my diminishing social skills having spent a year inside - but I was struggling to get the words out. I was trying to be the old me, the me who couldn’t say no to a night out, but I realised that week that I wasn’t that person anymore, and I didn’t want to be, either.

So I’ve implemented a new rule: no going out two nights in a row. Maybe I am getting old, or maybe at 35, I’ve finally started to listen to my body, but I now have the confidence to say no without having to make up pathetic excuses. Wanting more time at home is a valid reason, and I shouldn’t have to apologise for that.

That’s not the only thing that’s changed. Before lockdown, we were searching for a property to buy in East London, but now the thought of spending half a million on a shoebox in a grotty area of town that some bloke with a handlebar moustache has deemed to be ‘edgy’ seems utterly ridiculous. I don’t want to spend my Saturday night in a repurposed shipping container waiting hours for a wannabe stylist to serve me obscenely priced cocktails. That was so 2019.

I’ve come to realise that being in the 'coolest' part of town isn’t what's important. What’s important is creating a beautiful home with the people you love, and that could be anywhere within a mile of a half-decent train line.

Just as I’ve come to realise that East London isn’t the centre of the universe, I’ve also come to learn that fresh air is as energising as gin. I used to sit at my desk for nine hours at a time, never taking a break. My mother-in-law takes daily walks and when we lived together, suggested I did, too. I've always found walking rather dull. Also, being outdoors forces you to get inside your own head, which isn’t a concept I'm comfortable with. But I knew it was good for me, and she always came back so relaxed, so I started walking during lunch and soon enough, it became a daily practice.

I relished the time alone; I generated new ideas for my book, listened to the entire back catalogue of Elizabeth Day’s ‘How to Fail’ podcast, and was amazed at how invigorated I felt in the afternoon. I now make it a priority to get outside during the day and block out time to do so. If I need to be in a meeting during that time, I take it on the phone, so I can at least get outside. Or I just don’t take the meeting - it depends on how ballsy I feel that day.

I’ve been trying to work out whether I’m having an identity crisis, I’m getting old, or the pandemic really has changed me. Maybe I’ll revert to my old ways now that we’re 'free' again. I hope not. Aside from being a nightmare of epic proportions, lockdown was also a time for reinvention, and I’ve reinvented what I consider to be normal. Do I miss clubbing? Yes. And no doubt I’ll be legless on the dancefloor, screaming Beyonce at the top of my lungs sometime soon. But the following day, I’ll be at home, attempting to bake a gluten-free banana bread, which I’ll devour as I watch The Masked Singer. And I’m OK with that.

Is This It? Hannah’s second fiction novel is out now

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