No, unfortunately, I’m not going to be 16. Or 26 for that matter. This birthday, in one week, I am officially ‘late 20’s’.

A whole new demographic I am not quite sure I am prepared to enter yet. It’s not quite 30, but I’m no longer young and carefree. My title at work has manager in it. I worry about mortgage payments and health insurance instead of how many drinks I can have on a Saturday night and still drive on my Ps Sunday morning. Those were the days.

And then there is the actual birthday. Remember primary school where you took cupcakes for everyone? Or your teenage years when you had a sleepover with twelve of your closest girlfriends? Then it was big nights out clubbing before quiet dinners started to take over. this year my family even has other commitments.

While I might be turning ‘late 20’s’, I have to say its been a good run. I can only remember one bad birthday – I had gastro for a week and spent my brithday in bed while my friends decorated the street with chalk drawings on the road and balloons up the lightposts. It was all I could do to walk to the front door to check the scene out, and if that’s my worst birthday, I reckon I’ve had it pretty good.

This year I’m not writing a list – I have everything I could possibly want. Friends and family I love. A job that challenges me and makes me strive to be my best; a magazine that I am honoured to write for and opportunities I never thought i would achieve. A wonderful place to live, a beautiful city to live in and the desire to live my life to its fullest.

My 27th year will take me to Paris. It will open new doors, expand my horizons and perhaps set a path for the following years. Perhaps it won’t. But that’s what I love about my life – the thrill of not really knowing what is just around the corner.