It’s later than you think.

Last week, against a backdrop of Orange Buffoonery and trampled mourners, the old git and I sat and watched the clock in the sitting room as it arrived at 20:20:20:2020. one second of pleasure.
Back in the 70’s when we lived in Wapping, we would stand in front of our VHS recorder until the time turned to 12.34. Clap our hands for a full minute then continue with our day – or night.
We were young and carefree. The future was pregnant with opportunities. Now I’m living in that very future, and whether I like it or not I am old and careworn.
Being old is interesting, every cliche you have ever read or heard applies. I don’t feel old, I don’t look as old as I am, l am not as old as Helen Mirren, I’m younger than Joan Bakewell and I’m fitter than Theresa May who is younger than I. BUT, and it is a very big butt, I AM old, and I am having to learn to adjust to it.
For instance I no longer have the patience to deal with cold callers. The next one that tells me I have been involved in an accident will get a full glottal Anglo Saxon attack. I couldn’t care less about Meghan and Harry’s relocation plans. I couldn’t give a flying fuck about the latest skin care range that will eliminate my wrinkles or help me look like Jane Fonder. I have zero interest in Adele’s weight loss or Sam Smith’s gender fluidity. I couldn’t give a rats arse about the FTSE index or Americas Stock Market overview. I’ve gone off eggs and coconut. I’m tired of rehashed telly formulas and bored, bored, bored by uninteresting comedians who rely on sex/wanking/or shit gags to be funny.
And thats because getting old means you’ve seen it, heard it, done it all before and that if you have a modicum of decency you keep all that information to yourself. You do not continually finish other peoples sentences, you do not rehash your own long life, you do not name drop, place drop, reminisce, remonstrate, ramble or dominate. You do not, not even for one second, put yourself into the young arena without being invited and when you are you do not presume to be part of the gang.
Being old means just that – being OLD – which is to say that there is nothing charming or winsome about it. It is what it is, and if it is what it is and if you’ve managed to get old then just be it. So for anyone who missed 20:20:20:2020 I’m really sorry, but that one second of pleasure was worth waiting 70 years for.
I’m off now to sit in the bean bag, watch a film then spend twenty minutes trying to get up without giving into my sciatica.

2 thoughts on “It’s later than you think.”

  1. Absolutely love it………. absolutely love you!
    I always have always will!
    Sometimes I can’t wait to be ‘old’………it’ll give me an excuse to really say what I wanna say and not really care about the consequences!
    Embrace it Mrs Barnett……. it’s just another chapter, another adventure!
    You’re still ahead of the game in many ways!
    All our love, as always, joe and his gang!

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