When I was 49 years old, plus about 357 days, I received an email from Saga, the ‘old age’ company who send the ancient on cruises upon which there are first class geriatric medical facilities and funeral directors, arrange care homes, offer BMW Zimmer frames cheaply and generally cater for ‘life over 50’. Motherfuckers. I wasn’t 50. Not for few days anyway. But not being particularly sensitive about my age, I decided that deleting the offending email (filled with pictures of smiling, false-teethed, silver-haired very old people) wasn’t sufficient, so instead I smashed up the computer with a sledge hammer, then my desk, some random furniture and went looking for Olga, the cleaner…

Now another bunch of parasites, those who prey on the over 50s because we’re a great target market, this time ‘silversurfer.com’ have conducted a survey. And we all love a survey. The ‘top priorities’ for the over 50s were: 1. Security, 2. Health, 5. Happiness, 8. Travelling, blah, blah, blah. Not one mention on the list of football. Which is odd. Maybe that comes under the ‘top 10 causes of depression’ for those of any age. Anyway. The first suprise was that (financial) ‘security’ came higher than ‘health’. Better to have money in the bank than the ability to walk. Think how rich and secure you are whilst plugged into a hospital bed with tubes and wires in every orifice.

One in four interviewees stated that they felt ’10 to 14 years younger than their actual age’. 3 out of 10 probably couldn’t actually remember their actual age and 2 didn’t hear the quesion properly. “Aaayyyy????” “Whaaaatt??” “Can you speak a little louder??”

How do you judge how young you feel? How do you actually quanify it in any meaningful way? I can’t remember where I had breakfast yesterday, how would I know what 10 years ago felt like. Though it probably felt a bit less stiff in the early morning limb depertment and less fillingly in the teeth.

I wake up feeling 85 years old, then once the drugs and some minor movements have kicked in, with a little eye-liner and a lot of concealer, I’m 26 once more. Its show-time, folks!

The alternative, of course, is to beat yourself up in the gym every day, lose 22 pounds in weight and turn your face into that of a skeleton. Or, as it is now termed: ‘gym face’. Yes, they have a term for those who lose excessive weight and their faces kind’a collapse, like Matthew McGonaghay in Dallas Buyers Club. Or Jake Gyllenhall in his latest pic. Oh. So you need a few ‘fillers’ and a jab or two of botox to de-line your boat-race.

Life’s all about balance really. And if you can balance your beer can on your belly whilst watching tv, you probably need some affirmative action. Otherwise, just grow old gracefully and beautifully. Like me. And never look in the mirror.

Happy tuesday

A xxxx