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| Eddie, My cousin Elise, Me and Kiki |
So, as I turn 52, I realise that 50 isn’t
the new anything, but my age. It's not the new 30 or 40 or even 44. Its just 52. I don't think it is just me. I assume my dad or mom did not felt any older or younger at 50 than I do. Lord knows, I KNEW they were old, but they probably didn't feel that way.
.
At 50, life begins to change in ways both little
and big. The big doesn’t surprise
me. I gain weight easier and lose it
less easily – which is to say not at all.
It takes me longer to catch my breath, and I put my foot up on something
to tie my shoe instead of crouching down.
But it is the smaller changes, the ones you
forget, that slap me the hardest. Like I
seem to have a new superpower of invisibility, and it arrived with my grey
hair. And talking to strangers, well that
used to embarrass my companions, but now it REALLY embarrasses my companions. And the fact that you can’t flirt anymore
without seeming like an old letch.
I see this in my anger at our Country’s
system that seems more skewed towards helping the powerful than the needful –
but people see me as being crotchety. I mean for me, it is anger that the rich insist on helping only themselves, when our entire country benefited from good schools, roads and communications. But for others, I am just that crazy guy that doesn't get it.
And I get I am now that crazy guy, who is invisible when he isn't angry.
And I get I am now that crazy guy, who is invisible when he isn't angry.
So I catch myself and rein it in, trying to
appear less strident, less stupid – but, in the process, being less fun. And getting old.
I think maybe when I am ready, I want to retire to a country estate somewhere and become one of those crazy British Eccentrics. And the good thing about become eccentric – is no matter where you retire – you can treat it like a country estate.
