A year ago I was singing 'will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64'. This year I am feeling even more trepidation as I approach 65. I was filled with the hebee jeebies when reaching Sixty because that I would say, is definitely the turning point, when you go from middle aged to just plain old. Sixty five is when you start to shrink away, both literally and figuratively, I have lost both height and weight and I think an invisible veil is starting to engulf me in.
I can't say I have ever thought about what I would be like as an old person, I knew I would never be a regular little old lady with a cauliflower perm, a battered old purse and a shopping trolley, but yeah, ha ha, I am. Except for the cauliflower perm. But with the addition of a magnifying glass, because I cannot read food labels. when Smart Arsed Son first saw me use it, he asked 'anything I can help you with Sherlock', he has a gag for every occasion. Seriously though, I need to know how many calories are in that large cream eclair before I commit. You see I'm not all bad, I balance it out by eating a piece of mackerel and a handful of rasberries. Not together obviously, but both look good in my daily eating record, yes I do that now, I keep a food diary. Whilst the eclairs may congregate with the doughnuts around the waistline, the fish livens up the brain and the rasberries flush it all out. There is a method to the madness.
I was going to have a moan about getting old and decrepit, but the truth is, I am quite enjoying it. My flowing blue locks are fooling no-one, I'm perceived as ancient, but I'm OK with that. The world feels like a much kinder place, young people go out of their way to be helpful and polite. I am on the outside edges of the hustle and bustle and phew to that. I don't know how I managed as a single working mum, but I did, and I survived it and much, much more, but I'll never forget the nights I cried because I had to stay in.
Now, at 65 I am able to do whatever I want whenever I feel. Unfortunately the good Lord, if there is one, chucked we over 60's a curved ball. He (it had to be a man) gave us all this freedom when we are least likely to enjoy it! Sure we can go to wild parties, do drugs, and stay out all night, but we don't really want to. My list of things to do before I die is shrinking. I have had to strike off ketamine and MDMA but I'm still up for the mushrooms. I jest, my weekend with Jack Nicholson getting drunk and high in New Orleans, has been downgraded to a night in with a movie (one of his obviously) and a cup of cocoa. Nah, scrub that, loads of drugs and a medic on standby. The wicked little devil became my kind of guy when he told Cher to leave the dishes and laundry because she would have to do it all again 'tomorrow', made me swoon.
But I digress. Getting old and decrepit can be cool. No rushing for trains, no arsehole bosses, no boring filing and no paper cuts - jeez they hurt. In the past few months I have been able to watch all the ins and outs of the Johnny Depp .v. Amber Heard trial and I have to say it had more drama, conflict and pathos than any movie or drama I have ever seen. Being an old hippy chick, I am naturally aligned to Johnny Depp, he is unique and kind of crazy. I don't know what it is with brilliant men, that they can be so easily swayed by a pretty face, but they can. Arthur Miller/Marilyn Monroe (though she too was brilliant in her own way), Charlie Chaplin and his penchant for young starlets. Some might say they ask to get taken for a ride, but it is a human trait. History is littered with tales of young scarlet women and totally smitten old eejits willing to give up everything for them, see Henry VIII.
Happily justice has been done. The jury saw exactly what the behaviour analysts, the pundits and we the audience saw. AH is a terrible actress and violently psychotic. Johnny, poor sod, was lucky to get away from her alive. Prince Harry on the other hand has no escape. When someone starts cutting people out of your life, you are in the hands of a control freak and it is not pleasant. Harry has a new life, but he hasn't got his old life, the one he clearly enjoyed before he gave it all up for his wife. Ouch, actually a lifetime of ouch.
But back to the joys of getting older. I love having the time to explore subjects that have always interested me and discovering new ones that have kept me fascinated. I am still in the midst of my Viking phase, mostly because I have been able to go back and watch the series again from the beginning, this is where the geriatric memory loss comes in handy. And I have loved being able to, vicariously, visit the most interesting and inaccessible places on earth via intrepid vloggers who always have their cameras with them. Viva technology say I, who ever thought we would live in such a brave new world eh?
My kindest wishes to those who have come this far, my writer's block, I hope will break one of these days, now that I have the time and 'room of one's own', all I ever wanted. Meanwhile, take care, thank you for reading. Would love to hear how being over 60 affects others, thoughts welcome.