She’s a teenager and I’m most definitely not. But I’m not sure I’m ready to be Old Zoe
I
t’s weird that it should happen for the first time so late in life, but next week I’m going on holiday with someone else called Zoe. I wasn’t particularly worried about it, since it’s generally easy enough to distinguish who is meant by the context, even when two people are the same age and do exactly the same things, as you will know if your name is Ben.
In this case, the other Zoe is a teenager, so it will immediately be obvious who’s who, as our activities will scarcely overlap. Any Zoe who has made a serious error – lost someone else’s passport, backed into a tree – will be me and any Zoe who has forgotten her swimming costume or wants to go paddleboarding will be her.
“You haven’t thought this through,” said my friend J. “You’re obviously going to be Big Zoe. You should start getting used to it now. By day four, you’ll probably just be Big ’Un.”
