By Aaron Evans
There is something about growing up that really saddens me. We get to 15 and all of a sudden we become way too cool for everything. We start worrying about what people think of us. When I was 7 I didn’t give a monkey’s what people thought of my hand knitted Mr T. sweater , it honestly didn’t bother me that I was wearing jelly sandals and had hair cut like a pre-pubescent Neil Morrisey. All I honestly cared about was my He-Man collection and my family – everything else was either ‘Poo’ or a ‘willy bum’.
To inject some much needed happiness in to my adult life, to escape the constant financial worry, and the stresses and strains of work and relationships, I decided to re-examine what made me happy as a seven year old. I started collecting comics again and it didn’t really work, I also bought a Dairy Lea triangle and a packet of Monster Munch and naturally it didn’t help. When buying a packet of cigarettes at my local petrol station I spotted a box of Premier League stickers nudging me in the part of the brain that processes sentiment. I took a deep breath and all of the worries of the world dissipated. Read the rest of this entry