Life Begins at….

So middle age is now something that recognisably afflicts us from 53 – it  used to be 41 and, as I’ve been known to state my time on the planet as a dyslexic 35 – the age that I always feel – I guess I may have been aware of the inevitability of a new title.

Now as it happens the final few days of my being a mere 53 are rattling through very quickly.  Indeed this coming Monday the clock turns again.  I guess that takes me well into middle age, staring down the slippery slope.  So whilst I lie down in a darkened room, a glass of Auchentoshan warming in my grasp, let’s just have a look at what we are told are the current signs of middle age.  It’s in the papers, and being blethered about on the phone-ins, so it must all be true.

The good news is the gap between young and old is much smaller, as more and more is done online and through social media, by all age groups.  But frustration with said technology, and the need for a nap, are clear signs of that middle age badge applying.

Getting worried are we?  How about the songs in the current top ten.  Go on, tell me you know the tunes, assuming they are actually tuneful, and their titles.  Artists?  OK I’ll forgive you the artists.

Apparently half of us don’t feel there is such a thing as middle age any more.  I think we call that denial.  How young you feel is more important than the numbers on the cards.  Illness and memory loss though are increasingly feared.  Uh-huh.

Nearly half of the over 50s claim not to have experienced middle age, though we’re not told if they’re below the magic 53, or heading fast towards the 60s.  We claim turning 50 to be a new stage, whereas it used to be 30, then 40.  Now I disagree with that one, denial again I think.  But for me 40 was not good, 50 a breeze.  Perhaps it’s just an acceptance.

So here are the top ten:

Out of touch with technology – tablets and tellys – and what about passwords and PINs?

No idea what the yoof are talking about – nothing new there I suspect

Feeling stiff – don’t titter at the back

Afternoon nap – it would be nice to have the time, but I have been known to rest the feet on the desk for 10 minutes, OK half an hour, back in my younger days, 30s I think.  Too busy now though.

Groaning when you bend down – nah, it’s getting back up again

Forgetting the names of modern bands – who are these Beatles chaps, as someone once said

Talking a lot of joints/ailments – my lips are sealed, and you don’t want to know about joints in the world of The Ghamellawallah

Hating noisy pubs – it’s when you can’t hear the person next to you for the noise from the corner – damn, it happens in the café at the swimming pool too….

Getting more hairy – we are talking ears, nose, palms of hands etc – so have you got your trimmer yet?

And the old policeman/teachers/doctors looking young thing – so nothing new there either

Anyone admitting to Middle Age?  I’m away for trundle on the bike.  Then I might just have that nap, assuming my joints don’t seize up.  And music on the iPad thingy when cycling- oh probably Doris Day, just until FMQs returns you understand.  Actually I don’t do earbuds when cycling – that would be dangerous, not hearing the traffic.  Is that a sign of age, or just a wish to keep on living?



Filed under Farrago

5 responses to “Life Begins at….

  1. I did the transition you describe 30 days ago. Survived. Will confess to feeling middle-aged on leaflet runs. Afternoon naps are good, though…

    • And the opening lines of the President’s Page in the institute magazine that’s just landed on the desk are:
      “There is one guaranteed effect of getting older: time really does seem to pass more quickly.” It seems there are books on the subject. But I’m not going to add The Time Paradox, or the other one with the title too long to type, to The Bedside Table. Life, as they say, is just too short.

      • I’ve been watching ‘Rumpole of the Bailey’ on DVD. Last night I realised that the episode I was watching (from Series 3 or 4) was made 30 years ago. That really made me feel old!

  2. Phew! Glad to hear I’ve another 3 years to go before ‘middle age’, I thought it was 45 at first and then I heard 50. I just turned 50, my preferred tipple to clutch is Lagavulin (or Talisker, I’m for the peaty ones). On the big day, I clutched one on a deserted white beach on Harris (my hand over the top to stop the wind blown sand adding grit to peaty liquid) as a golden eagle soared and a peregrine swooped on a pigeon (it got away). Like you 40 was bad, 50 is fine, definately acceptance and the chance to ‘wear purple’ without giving a fig! My hubby just cycled from Land’s End to JOG and he’s 70 next year. I trekked the Great Glen Way with my Dad last year and he’s 82……it’s all to come………..I vote for afternoon naps or ‘nana naps’ as we call them. Happy Birthday!

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