I Thought I Had My Own Key

Now that I've entered the final few months of my 20s, I'm at a curious "man child" stage in my life, or so it seems.

 

There are strange factors of my life that would seem, on the face of things, to be incompatible.

 

I have a mortgage and several pension plans, but I can regularly be seen wearing Oasis, Supergrass, StarWars and Batman t-shirts.

 

I read The Times and an average of one novel or work of non-fiction a week, but also read comics and graphic novels.

 

I spend eight hours a day analysing the worldwide oil and gas industry, examining trends and predicting how things will progress over the next five years. But I know far more about British and European football, and can still recite with relative ease the host nations and finalists of every World Cup since the first competition in 1930.

 

Rather than visit the historic cathedrals and battlefields of the Midlands while on holiday this year, I instead attended two football matches and spent a day on Skegness' fairground rides.

 

What does this all mean? That I'm a well-rounded individual who can leave the office behind at 4.30pm every day and instead immerse myself in the alternate worlds created by Marvel, DC, Nintendo and Sony?

 

Or that I'm a big kid who needs to grow up?