Hi Folks

Do you ever have those days when you just feel old?   I do.   Not often, but now and again.   Yesterday was a bad day in that respect.  I was listening to the growingly inane Zoe Ball breakfast show on BBC Radio 2. ( Oh, how I long for the old Terry Wogan days. He was my companion on many a happy commute to work.  That probably ages me. However, I digress. ) Zoe has a feature on her breakfast program called “Show and Tell”.  It’s an opportunity for more youthful listeners to ring into the show and perform their party piece.  Yesterday a young lady was going to perform a song, accompanying herself on the guitar, which she had been learning for about a year.  She did a pretty good job. KT Tunstall’s ‘Black Horse and a Cherry Tree’ since you ask.  So far so good.

The problem came when Zoe asked the young lady what sort of music she liked to play and the answer came, “music from the olden days, like the ’80’s”

80’s Shocker

The ’80’s?  Olden Days????  It was just yesterday wasn’t it? It was the finest musical decade in history, in my opinion.  The ’80s music scene inspired me to pick up a guitar and definitely shaped my musical tastes for life.  I think I am still in the ’80’s most days. My playlist remains ’80’s inspired, although I do without the dodgy fashions, which may well still exist in my wardrobe somewhere.  But then I thought about it and realised my first live gig was a punk band called Crass at the Middlesbrough Rock Garden in 1980. That’s nearly 40 years ago.  40 years?  How did that happen?

The Crass Gig

I remember the gig quite well.   Crass were at the cutting edge of anarchic punk and the place was packed. I was there with a good friend whose girlfriend was a huge Crass fan and who sported the full punk regalia.  Still sporting long hair, I  seem to remember turning up in jeans and a jacket to find a hall, full of hardcore punks and a few very edgy looking skinheads.  I seriously thought I wouldn’t get out alive.  Obviously, I did, although the jacket needed dry cleaning to remove the copious quantities of spilt beer and I dread to think what else, from it.

The point is, for A 14 yr old young lady, they are the old days. I used to complain to my grandfather about his listening and singing along to music from the 30’s and 40’s.  Hmm, that’s a very similar timeframe. Good grief.  I haven’t become my father, I am becoming my grandfather!  So, if I am becoming my granddad, I should truly follow his example and grow old disgracefully.

My Granddad

My Grandfather on my father’s side was of Irish descent.  He smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, gambled, but went to church every Sunday.  As a  professional soldier having joined the army in the late 20’s, he fought in World War 2. He was a member of the British Expeditionary Force and part of the rear guard at Dunkirk, one of the last off the beaches, swimming out to the flotilla of little boats.  Sadly, he didn’t do well with authority so never made it higher than corporal.  Despite a few near misses, he made it through the war mostly intact.  I  would love to say he was uncharacteristically reserved about his war exploits, but he wasn’t. In fact, he used to talk endlessly about them. To anyone who would listen and quite a few who didn’t want to.  Despite this, he seemed to be well thought of and could always make me smile.  I once asked him what was the best thing about reaching his 90’s.  He replied, “no peer pressure”

Stroke

He suffered a mini-stroke in his 80’s that for a time left him beliving himself back in the war years.  Unable to look after himself, he came to live with us. With two young children, it was hard work looking after a demented 80 yr old.  I would get home from work, help with dinner then more often than not,  get him out of the house for a while by taking him to the local pub.

Here, he would describe his day. He thought I was his long-dead brother and would tell me of his trip in a lorry carrying ammunition to the front, or the bombardment of enemy positions. Or recovering the bodies of his fallen comrades and friends from the water at Dunkirk.  Ironically, it seems these terrible years were where he was most comfortable, if not happy. This lasted for a few years until his son, my father died.  On hearing the news,  it was like a switch had been tripped. He looked around, asking where he was and what he was doing here? It was the first time he had called me by my name since his stroke and he had absolutely no recollection of the last few years.

The Danger of Cigarettes

I once expressed my concern to his doctor about his drinking. He really was pretty much an alcoholic. My Granddad, not the doctor, although, you never know.  Anyway, the doctor’s advice was it would do more harm than good to try and stop him. He also suggested granddad probably wasn’t going to last more than another year or so.  Got that wrong. The old man lived another 10 or so years. Still drinking like a fish and smoking Senior Service full strength, unfiltered cigarettes.  It was the fags that got him in the end.  At the ripe old age of 98, he was ran over crossing the road to buy a packet of ciggies. A hospital stay ensued with a broken hip, pneumonia set in and that was that.   

The Health Check

Getting older is something you can’t avoid, its not much fun, but you can ignore it as far as possible.

Billy Connely did a sketch once where he said he was of an age where he made involuntary grunting noises when he bent over. I do that now.

A quick check on my health status from my tippy tippy toes to my big shiny nose.  Had an episode of gout a few years ago, God it was painful.  I refused to believe it was gout despite what the doctor said.   After all, that’s an old man’s ailment.  Fortunately, it hasn’t returned and I still love port and cheese.

My left knee is a bit dodgy. Tore the ligaments playing rugby years ago and it has never forgiven me.  Getting some hip pain, but nothing serious.  My digestive system seems to be in revolt. If I dare to eat anything an hour or two before bed I will regret it with chronic heartburn.  I have high blood pressure but its controllable. My heart is surprisingly healthy as long as I don’t get too stressed. My hearing isn’t great. Too many years spent playing loud music with a drummer beating the crap out of the skins just behind me. That and working around industrial compressors and helicopters haven’t helped.

My long distance eyesight is still 20:20. My near vision is hopeless and I have glasses stashed all over the house. I just can’t see where.  I still have a full head of hair. It’s getting greyer and a bit thin, but its there. No comb-overs for me, thank you.   All in all not too bad, so far.  If I were a car, I would definitely pass my MOT,  but at the same time, I would definitely be thinking about swapping me out for a newer model.  Fortunately,  Wifey doesn’t agree with me about that.

My Better Half

Wifey is 5 years younger than me and never lets me forget the fact.  She is still tall and slim and depressingly fit despite a diet that seems to comprise entirely of coffee,  cake and chocolate.  And yes I am very envious. Of course, I don’t do myself any favours in that respect. I have a terrible diet. I hate. No that doesn’t really express my true feelings. I loathe with a passion, all things vegetably and green. So I exist on meat, fish, potatoes, rice pasta and the odd nibblet of sweetcorn all washed down by copious beer, wine and or whisky.  I hope I really do have my grandfathers constitution.

One thing both Wifey and I agree on is you have to maintain a sense of humour about getting older. She has more glasses dotted about than do I and is forever losing them and purloining mine. Of course, she denies this and I can’t see what she is wearing clearly enough to argue the case. But I know, oh yes I know.  Having a small daughter running around like a mad thing helps keep us young. Even as it exhausts us.  I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it as a  means of maintaining your youth and virility. If you do go down that route and it seems people are putting off having children until later in life, be aware, it’s an expensive option.

And Finally

So my top takeaways from this?  Forget about getting older. It’s going to happen so why worry about something you can’t change. Like taxes and Brexit.  Follow the example of the likes of Keith Richard or even my Granddad and Grow old disgracefully.  Do what you want to do and to heck with what anyone else thinks.  Never miss an opportunity to embarrass your offspring and always maintain a sense of humour. People seem to assume wisdom comes with increasing maturity. Possibly. I wouldn’t know as I have never really grown up and I want to keep it that way.

To end, here are some stonking examples of age-related humour. Take them as jokes or if you prefer, as age-related wisdom to be embraced as you journey along that one-way path.

Graham

Age Wisdom

Grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway, the good fortune to run into the ones I do, and the eyesight to tell the difference.

My memory’s not as sharp as it used to be. Also, my memory’s not as sharp as it used to be.

Memories

A couple in their nineties are both having problems remembering things. During a checkup, the doctor tells them that they’re physically okay, but they might want to start writing things down to help them remember.

Later that night, while watching TV, the old man gets up from his chair. ‘Want anything while I’m in the kitchen?’ he asks.

‘Will you get me a bowl of ice cream?’

‘Sure.’

‘Don’t you think you should write it down so you can remember it?’ she asks.

‘No, I can remember it.’

‘Well, I’d like some strawberries on top, too. Maybe you should write it down, so’s not to forget it?’

He says, ‘I can remember that. You want a bowl of ice cream with strawberries.’

‘I’d also like whipped cream. I’m certain you’ll forget that, write it down.’ she says.

Irritated, he says, ‘I don’t need to write it down, I can remember it! Ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream – I got it, for goodness sake!’

Then he toddles into the kitchen. After about 20 minutes, the old man returns from the kitchen and hands his wife a plate of bacon and eggs. She stares at the plate for a moment, then asks………

‘Where’s my toast?’