30 Things I Know At 30

Today is my 30th birthday— here's what I've learned.

Today, the 11th of July 2025, marks my 30th birthday.

Despite the obvious decade of formative development spanning from first emerging through the vaginal grand drape to age ten— and again from ten to twenty— I controversially believe my most evolutionary decade has actually been from twenty to today.

Learning to wipe your ass and count to ten look like child’s play when compared to navigating the spectrum of avoidant man-boys, shit jobs, criminal landlords, career pivots, depleted funds, hellish-holidays, heartbreaks, and every flavour of yeast infection that my twenties have presented me.

I’ve made more messes and misjudgments than you can shake a near expired 26-30 railcard at, resulting in some of, what I believe to be, the best life lessons— and subsequent advice— on the planet. Without further ado, here are the top 30 things I know at 30.

1. The Body, Mind, and Yeast Infections Are All One

No, it’s not a coincidence you had a breakup, moved house, then got a raging yeast infection for a week straight. No, your insomnia isn’t separate from your soul-crushing job. Nor is your persistent migraine unrelated to your 2am doomscrolling. Your back isn’t randomly seizing up for fun every time your boss pings you at home. Your body is talking: louder and clearer each time you ignore it. It won’t shut up until you listen.

2. Fake Orgasms Ruin Lives

Faking an orgasm is like pretending to read an upside-down book and then leaving the author a five-star rave review on Goodreads. You gain nothing and help no one. I spent nine and a half years (!) of my twenties faking orgasms for a plethora of unworthy reasons (desirability, frustration, performance, ‘how long until I can get this sweaty lump off me and resume watching Flea Bag?’), none of them worth the dissatisfaction, disconnection, quiet resentment, and slow erosion of my own pleasure it went on to cause in the long run. If you can’t orgasm during sex, you just haven’t found a way yet.

3. HomeExchange

I discovered HomeExchange, and the wider concept of home-swapping, just over a year ago, and I’ve been kicking myself ever since. I can’t believe I ever paid for holiday accommodation. It’s basically what Airbnb used to be before crapitalism ruined it. The reciprocal, no-money-involved nature means people are respectful and protective of your home— every time I’ve returned from an exchange, my flat’s been even nicer than when I left it. You get to travel anywhere in the world, and most importantly, you’re not haemorrhaging even more money as a renter, because it turns your biggest expense into your biggest asset. Fuck you landlords. Fuck you Airbnb.

4. Listen To What You’re Being Shown

I know, I know— you wanted me to use ‘actions speak louder than words’ but I actually think it’s incorrect because it should be ‘actions speak full fucking stop’. I would’ve lived a very different life for the last ten years had I listened to what I was being shown over what I was being told I was being shown. If something feels that way, it more than likely is that way. Capisce.

5. Get A Cat For F*cks Sake

The love that a furry hot water bottle with stick legs can bring you is incomprehensible until you experience it. For the small price of both arms of your sofa and the smell of gravy at 6am, you’re gifted a reason to wake up. No day will ever be alone. Get a cat, and love it wholly.

6. TKMaxx

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate than an unlabelled bag of mystery herbs, a half-worn-down Gucci lipstick, or an Eiffel Tower-shaped candle with a face on it. I find very little more joyous than spending hours rummaging through the carnage of the TK Maxx aisles, and I have converted far too many friends to count, with its array of bargains and genuine bounty. Feeling like shit? Go and look around for an hour and you’ll distract yourself beyond all questionable doubt.

7. Call Don’t Text

If it’s something even marginally more important that a meme, make it a call. Phone calls have been in steady decline since the early 2000s, and I think it’s such a shame. A call somehow demands less and gives more— because you answer it there and then or never, and you get to listen to the way the message was intended to be delivered. Extra points for indulging in phone sex in 2025, you’re truly doing the lords work.

8. If You’re Going To FaceTune, Keep The Originals Too

I promise you— from first-hand, lived experience— you will regret it. One day you’ll look back in horror at how tiny you made your nose, how gigantic your lips were, how eerily bagless your eyes looked. Just like we wince at the cut of our old jeans, we’ll dry-heave at the abominations we sculpted with FaceTune and its cousins. I’m not saying don’t do it— if it makes you feel better now, fine. But for god’s sake, keep the originals too. Every tweak erases a little bit of your history, and in turn, your heritage. You’ll miss that version of you when it’s gone. Keep the damn originals.

9. Live Alone

…at least once in your life. I’m only eight glorious days into living alone as I write this, but I already know it’s the tits. It was monstrously difficult to reach a point where this was even possible in London, but having a space where everything stays exactly where I left it, where I can waltz around stark-bush naked, and where I’m never held hostage by the lingering smell of someone else frying onions, feels like one of my greatest achievements so far. You won’t realise how much you edit yourself around others until you’re truly, blissfully alone. Do it once, even for a short while.

10. Lidl Salted Pretzels and Butter

Get two Lidl Salted Pretzels from the bakery bit. Get home, put one in the freezer. The second, sprinkle with tap water and pop in the air fryer (or oven if you’re Bob Cratchit) for 3 minutes. Slice open the fat bottom bit with a bread knife, and slather with salted butter. Apply butter incrementally to the thin pieces as you bite. That’s the Swabian way— and it’s the only way to enjoy pretzels outside of Swabia. If you’re feeling up to pro-level luxury, do cream cheese instead.

11. Therapy

Yesterday, 10th July 2025, marked my 202nd session of therapy with my long-time therapist John. Two hundred and two weeks, and £12,000 later, it’s the best life decision I’ve ever made. Above university, above moving to London, above quitting a career I hated, above leaving exes, or even living alone for the first time. All of it would’ve been possible without therapy, of course, but none of it would have been in my line of sight. It’s made me see who I can be, how I relate to others, and what I want out of life. No one questions why you’ve paid for wifi for the last ten years, with a “surely it’s not working if you’ve been at it that long”. It’s working, that’s why I’m still paying for it.

12. Sext

I love sexting. I think it can be creative, intimate, extremely hot, and deliciously unhinged— often far filthier and more revealing than the act itself. One “in bed, and you?” and suddenly the shyest person you know is describing things that would get you both excommunicated. It’s a dying art, I think everyone’s too worried about getting cancelled or leaked, but sexting is one of the last erotic spaces where it’s not about finishing quickly, but about building a vision together. A true female-gaze pastime: all imagination, no clean-up. Do it. Send the (solicited) filth.

13. Upstairs at Foyles

It’s probably a hidden gem in the same way Sidney Sweeney is the girl next door, but it’s made it into the top 30 nonetheless. If I ever go missing I’ll be in one of three places: in the bath (prawn-in-shape and prune-in-texture), upstairs at Foyles, or in bed on my phone (you didn’t try very hard to find me, did you). I’ll be in one of the corner window seats, writing away on my laptop, jam scone in hand. Try it and you’ll never leave. 107 Charing Cross Rd, London WC2H 0EB.

14. Bath

Trying not to think about them? Have a bath. Pissed about work stuff? Have a bath. New doomscrolling world record? Have a bath. Bath. Bath. Bath. Bath. Bath. That wasn’t a writing flourish it was my weekly schedule. No phone. No reading. No nothing. Just thoughts, bubbles, and cocooning like you somehow managed to get back inside your mums womb. (Note: For an extra treat, a bowl of oven chips will float in the bath— but you didn’t hear that from me).

15. Hang The Picture Up

Leaning artwork against the skirting board of a rental flat says ‘I will not be here long’. I will not be here long evokes many things, none of them home. Once I started committing to nails in walls (and subsequently learning to polyfiller them in when eventually necessary), it’s no exaggeration when I say: I arrived home. Get your clothes in the wardrobe of the long weekend away. Pull the Net-A-Porter tag off the collar. Commit to being (here).

16. The Doxy Original Wand

The best £94.99 I’ve ever spent. I know it’s a lot, but I’ve just worked out my cost-per-use and I’m currently on £0.000000000001. It will change your life— and your orgasms— for good. Go for the mains plug one, and get a neutral colour as you’ll be with this baby for life (and god knows what Pantone beige will be trending in 2035). Email me at hello@harrietrichardson.com to thank me later. Girlie, if there’s one thing you take from this list, let it be this and the upcoming ‘You’re Not Fat’ bit. Note: Works on genitals of all varieties.

17. It’s Your Fault

You get what you attract, minus things like cancer and natural disasters. I’m talking ‘why do I keep ending up with the same avoidant man time and time again’ or ‘I just don’t understand I’ve been working out for 2 weeks now’. Believe me, I’ve been there. Thirteen avoidant men, and multiple couch-to-5k’s later, I’m working to improve the parts of me that find comfort and familiarity in shitty patterns. It. Is. Your. Fault. (Most. Of. The. Time).

18. You’re Not Fat

I look at photos of my eighteen-year old-self and reminisce about how, on first seeing it uploaded to Facebook, I journalled on a tear-soaked page about the width of my arms— when what I really should’ve been crying about was my selection of Topshop american flag shorts and brown tight combo. Every year, the same thing, looking back and thinking ‘I can’t believe I thought I was fat then’. Well guess what honey bunny, you get to stop the cycle. You’re not fat, ugly, or stupid— just incomprehensibly critical. And even if you are fat, so what? The problem isn’t, and never was, your body; it’s the internalised shame some idiot (Topshop) sold you. Now go and take some naked pictures for gods sake.

19. Clubbing Is, And Always Was, Shit

I don’t really have anything else to say. I hated it when I was 20, and I hate it still at 30. If I wanted to feel some sweaty mans bollocks pushed into the curve of my equally sweaty back whilst being deafened by indecipherable garbagio, I’d hop on the central line. Just because other people like something, it doesn’t mean you have to endure it too. Do what I do, get the post-club food at a pre-club time and watch a Lynch.

20. Mooncup

I wouldn’t go back in time to buy bitcoin, or tell Boris Johnson to stock up on PPE in 2018, or even warn people of the second building being hit. I’d go back to the toilets of my family home in 2007 and smuggle myself a mooncup. What a game changer. Every time I pop that little silicone pussy-of-the-year trophy into my penis fly trap I think of Emiline Pankhurst, and how wonderful she would’ve thought this invention to be. If you haven’t tried one, give it a week to get used to.

21. It’s Normal To Not Make Anything For Months On End

You’re not broken, nor are you a fraud. Sometimes your brain just wants to sit quietly like an unwatered plant for a bit. Let it. The ideas always come back, and they’re usually better for the pause. Thanks to the likes of Mr.Beast, Italian Bach, the Ryanair social media team, we’ve all been conned into thinking we’re supposed to be constantly churning out proof we exist. It’s deeply unnatural. Make nothing for months on end— then make because you want to. This article is the first thing I’ve done in MONTHS. And be honest, you’ve read worse… 😏

22. Trust Strangers

If you’re ten, don’t do this. Actually if you’re ten, most of this won’t apply to you— go and watch slime videos. Otherwise, listen up. Some of the best things that have happened to me in life have been a result of trusting strangers. They’re far nicer, and more trustworthy, and relatable than you could ever imagine. Of course our parents were terrified of them, the most famous person when they were growing up was Myra Hindley.

23. Fly In The Afternoon

I don’t encourage flying, but if you have to, please for gods sake do it in the afternoon. Every single time I’ve saved £26 by selecting a 6am flight over the 1pm one, I’ve thought ‘I would pay £26 to not do this’. Then I’ve spent £26 on airport food and energy drinks to try and make it through the day. It’s taken me thirty years to learn this lesson, and I look forward to the next 30 of sleeping peacefully before trecking to Heathrow.

24. Don’t Do Drugs

Fine, do drugs, but don’t kid yourself that the high is ever worth the crater it leaves behind. The comedown always costs more than the buzz was worth. Being stone-cold sober around someone who’s high is, without question, the most unattractive and uncool thing you’ll ever witness and I won’t be convinced otherwise. My hottest, most attractive, coolest, most accomplished friends are nearly* all sober, nearly* all the time. *(Aperol doesn’t count). *(Aperol is cool).

25. Wee After Sex

I knowwwwww, it’s hardly lighting up a cig and speaking french, but as far as post-coital activities go, it’s undeniably the most valuable. Swerve the UTI and catch a moment alone to reflect on the shopping list you were making in your head moments before. If you feel to awkward to get up and go piss, if you’re too bothered about looking cool and nonchalant, then they’re not the one. Bye bye!

26. You Will Be Loved

You will. If you don’t feel loved now, or like you’ve found your people, or purpose— you will. Everything changes too much all the time for it to not slot into place at some point. Persistence, patience, and kindness are the greatest gifts you can give yourself. That, and weeing after sex.

27. Write

One line a day. A single thought. A poem. A full-blown fucking screenplay. You will never, ever regret writing (as long as you’re keeping your scribbles in a safe place— mum I still haven’t forgiven you for finding that stick figure diagram of me giving a blowjob). Writing is for everyone. I mean, look at me..! I got a B minus in English and now I have thirty-three paid subscribers on Substack. And I know you’re thinking: ‘that’s not a lot’, well— it’s more than Shakespeare— so smoke on that (or subscribe here).

28. It’s Nothing To Do With You

Honey, Angel, BoatyMcSquishFace— it’s so very rarely to do with you. Think about how much you overthink, judge, and blame yourself compared to how little you actually do that to others. Exactly. You— and the other eight billion souls bumping around this planet— are far too wrapped up in your own world to spend much time starring in someone else’s. Use that knowledge daily. If someone’s being shitty, or you lose your job, or you get dumped, please know you’re SO far from the only reason it happened that it’s genuinely hilarious.

29. It’s Everything To Do With You

And yet— it’s so entirely about you. Your life, your choices, your reactions, your tiny brave ways of getting back up and having a wank. You can’t control who dumps you, but you can decide how gloriously you resurrect. You can’t stop people being assholes, but you can choose how close they stand to you. Take radical responsibility for your bit of the mess— your thoughts, your habits, your patterns— and you’ll realise you’ve got far more power than you ever gave yourself credit for.

30: You’ll Never Be Finished

No, I’m not talking about orgasmless sex again— I mean you’ll never be done. I remember thinking: By my 16th birthday I’ll feel pretty, By my 18th birthday I’ll know what I want to do with my life, By my 21st birthday I’ll have met the one, By my 25th birthday I’ll earn more money, by my 28th birthday I’ll know myself. It’s my 30th birthday today, and I know less about the future than I ever have. I have so much left to do. You can start yours by checking off this list.

Honourable mentions include getting regular massages, putting After Eight Mints in the fridge, and Love On The Spectrum Australia. See you in 10 years for 40 things I know at 40.

If you liked this, or any of my other writing, please buy me a birthday drink by becoming a paid sub— you can unsub anytime (just let me finish my Aperol first).

Love,
Harriet, Age 30 x