Sometimes, being grown up is about sticking a third of your income into a bank account because, like everyone else, you’re really twitchy about whether you’ll still have gainful employment. Or siphoning some of that money off to pay for a kitchen that you plan to go ahead with anyway because, if the worst happens, your best chance of hanging onto the house is to have it finished enough to rent out. Adult responsibilities include dealing with the gas board when they balls up your billing for nearly a year, or chasing government agencies who owe you money and too much paperwork.
Being grown up can suck.
Other times it means staying up too late, buying albums and books with your lunch money, whilst eating an entire tub of haribo (other sweets are available) and chipping away at a new story just because you can.
I’m aware I’m easily pleased.