The 5 things I swore I'd never do

Janet at 19: in need of a supportive bra, but at least my lipstick game was on point

Sarah wrote an ace piece recently about the things she swore she'd never do... and then somehow ended up doing. So much of what she said chimed with my own experiences, so (with permission, of course) I thought I'd come up with my own list of the things I told myself I'd never let happen in my life.

1. Stand at the back of a gig
"God, what's the point of even going to a gig if you're just gonna stand at the back, clutching a pint?" went our oft-repeated teenage refrain. To us, the only place to be was in the heart of the mosh pit or clinging to the barrier, gazing adoringly at the indie stars as they crooned to us. Now? Unless a gig has the option of sitting down, I seriously think twice about even booking a ticket. At a recent Ryan Adams show I felt so smug, sitting up in my comfy seat on the balcony while down below, people jostled for position in the main arena. Sixteen-year-old me would be aghast.

2. Wear a coat
In 1994, when I was 16, I decided that it wasn't cool to wear a coat. Instead, I had a ratty grey wool men's cardigan, which I'd picked up in a charity shop and fancied to be rather like the one Kurt Cobain wore during Nirvana's MTV Unplugged performance. That cardigan saw me through several freezing cold Yorkshire winters: I once walked the seven miles home from Bradford, in the middle of a snowstorm, wearing nothing but a dress, the cardigan and my trusty Docs. And while I did end up buying a coat some time in the late 90s, it took me an embarrassingly long time (like, until I was about 33) to realise that wet or cold weather is really so much more pleasant when you're properly dressed and shod in sensible shoes.

3. Sell out
As a teen and young adult, if I was determined about one thing it was this: I would never sell out. Which is to say, I'd never have to stop making art and writing. I'd certainly never get a 'proper' job or a mortgage. I'd never stop partying and protesting. I'd never stop dying my hair lurid colours, nor take out the myriad facial piercings I'd accumulated. I'd be a free spirit, tied down to nothing. It's embarrassing, now, to look back at what a cliche 'rebel' I really was. Over time, I was able to think more carefully about which bits of my rebellion were truly important: having pink hair and partying every weekend? Not that important (and also damn near impossible now I'm old and prefer to be in my pyjamas by 9pm on a Saturday night). Writing, activism, travelling? All pretty important. Having a well-paid and therefore 'proper' job to enable the aforementioned writing, activism and travelling? Fairly essential.

4. Become a teacher
The idea of teaching as a future career was first suggested to me by my sixth form English teacher, Mrs Pugh, after I'd dominated the discussion on Henry V Part 1 for the nth time. It was not a suggestion met with delight. I might not have known exactly what I did want to do but I knew what I didn't, and that was teaching. The conversation repeated itself in university careers interviews; in the pub with friends, when the subject of my inability to hold down a job came up; from my mum in despair, as I told her of the newest career change: "What about teaching?" "Not a chance."

I can't quite put my finger on the moment when my response changed from, "Not a chance," to, "Hmmm, maybe," but by the time I was 25 I'd enrolled on a PGCE, with the notion that I'd teach for a couple of years and then pack it all in to go travelling again. Well, ten years later and I'm still teaching. I discovered to my surprise (and, I suspect, the surprise of those who know me well) that I'm actually a pretty good teacher. Turns out Mrs Pugh was right all along.

5. Become one half of those couples
You know the kind: those couples off whom happiness just radiates as they grin at each other, holding hands and leaning on each other's shoulders. The couples who are really just going about their business but who, when you're single and feeling vulnerable and lonely, seem like a smack in the face. After ten years on my own I'd made all sorts of promises to myself that I'd never be so touchy-feely and so obviously loved-up in public. That I'd consider my single brethren when I had a partner. Yeah, that didn't go to plan...