Tales From... The Archive

Getting on…

You know you’re getting old when you find yourself saying things like, “God, I ache all over – I think I must have slept badly. “ That’s right, I haven’t been to the gym, or gone for a run, or even had a heavy pilates session.

 I just had a good ole fashioned 8 hours sleep and now I FEEL LIKE A PENSIONER AFTER AN IRON MAN COMPETITION! I can hear myself saying things like, “I think I over stretched a muscle in my sleep.” What the hell am I going on about? How can anyone over stretch anything when they’re lying vertically on an orthopedic mattress? I’m surprised someone hasn’t turned round and said, “Oh sod off you ole git and have a lie down, on second thoughts just lean up against that wall.”

I’ve also found myself punctuating my every move with an exhalation of breath; Sitting down “Aaaaaargh!” Getting up “Pheeeeewwwwww!” Bending over “Eurrrrrrrrrgh!” I have no recollection of making any such noises in my twenties or exclaiming proudly to friends, “Did you hear that click? That wasn’t brittle wood being snapped in two, that was my back!”

In days gone by I’d always roll my eyes when I heard women bang on about their pelvic floors, “These days if I sneeze I pee myself!” Really? You pee yourself if you sneeze? That is the most tragic thing I’ve ever heard. YOU SAD LOSER! Who’s laughing now? Not me because when I do I’m prone to wet myself.

I’m not even old, unless you’re under 25 in which case I’m practically dead to you. Obviously if you are over 45 I will understand the compulsion to tell me to GET A LIFE. I have similar urges listening to a 22 year old banging on about how old they feel. My response is usually along the lines of, “If you don’t get out of my face I will give your penis a Chinese burn.” (Note: This line tends not to work on women or men who are happy for their nethers to be experiencing any kind of attention.) Seriously, if you’re going to complain about being old have a look around first and make sure everyone is younger than you otherwise you may find the attempt at empathy somewhat lacking.

So, if I’m not old I think it would be fair to say that I’m not young either. I know this to be true by my reaction to listening to Radio 1. I have the same response my parents had when I insisted on listening to it in the car or in the kitchen. The music, the jingles the DJs all make me want to throw my radio out of a top floor window while shouting after it, SHUT UP! SHUT UP YOU MORONS! Now I listen to Radio 4. Why? Because at least the people talking on this station sound like they have more than one brain cell to rub together. There is political commentary, debates, plays, comedy (in the loosest possible sense) and nobody is asking you to ring in or text what you’re up to that weekend and if you want a shout out to all your bruvs in Saaaaarf London. I’m of an age that when I go out, I don’t need to tell EVERYONE ELSE IN GREAT BRITAIN. It’s enough for me that I manage to leave the house.

Now that I’m getting on I think it’s about time we all respected our elders. I know I probably didn’t do that as a youth. I was more likely to be heard saying things like, “Seriously aren’t you dead yet? Cause I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re running out of space.” But now I expect all young people to get in line and bow to my ever increasing wisdom and by that I mean I’ve finally set up a separate account for my tax. Yeah, that’s right I’m a grown up. So, should I ever make it to old age I look forward to shouting indiscriminately at inanimate objects, drinking sherry and refusing to laugh for fear of ‘an accident.’ Yeah… maybe I shouldn’t joke about that.

Posted on 30th September 2011


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