Comedian Miranda Hart laments on the horrors of growing up and offers her younger self some essential advice on grappling with life's unexpected perils and blunders
Well hello to you, dear browser. Now that I have your attention, it would be rude if I didn't tell you a little about my literary feast. So, here is the thing: is it just me, or does anyone else find that adulthood offers no refuge from the unexpected horrors, peculiar lack of physical coordination, and sometimes unexplained nudity, that accompanied childhood and adolescence? Does everybody struggle with the hazards that accompany, say, sitting elegantly on a bar stool; using chopsticks; pretending to understand the bank crisis; pedicures—surely it's plain wrong for a stranger to fondle your feet? Or is it just me? I am proud to say I have a wealth of awkward experiences—from school days to life as an office temp—and here I offer my 18-year-old self (and I hope you too, dear reader) some much needed caution and guidance on how to navigate life's rocky path. Because frankly, where is the manual? The much needed manual to life. Well, fret not, for this is my attempt at one, and let's call it, because it's fun, a Miran-ual. I thank you.