I am officially ‘old’ (60) – I know that because of the gasps I get at work when people find out my age; by that fact that I can buy discount tickets at football matches and that by most general measures by which we are judged I’m in the ‘old’ category. Age is a funny thing – I found hitting 40 and 50 relatively pieces of the proverbial p***.
I can tell you at what age I knew Id hit the benchmark – 57. No obvious reason but I just found that the occasional nagging ache in my back (neck, shoulder etc) became a permanent fixture; the inability to remember the name of anyone Id been introduced to the day before and the increasing amount of grey that hit various parts of my body.
But having said all that I am more comfortable in my own skin than Ive ever been and sometimes feel a strange combination of vulnerability and invincibility. I care so much less about what people may think of me and at work find that that the young folk come to me for counsel which I find hugely rewarding. I am though getting more obsessed with looking back to ‘recent’ times and thinking ‘but that was 20 years ago’
and in 20 years time Ill be … aaargh !’
The strangest thing though is how with every day I am slowly but inevitably morphing into my Dad – he looks out at me most days from the bathroom mirror and says ‘How are you doing ?’. To which on most days I say ‘not bad’ – which I guess is pretty ok.
Hi Feedback, two years behind you – 58 (and a half if halves count). Your thoughts are almost identical to mine. Don’t give a rats ass what others think of me and very comfortable in my own skin too. It helps work wise that there is that financial security of an accumulated pension pot behind me that says whatever happens you will have money – maybe not a ;to but you will have money.
Regarding physical ailments – sony have days off work and never have had touch wood. Knees ache more than they used, exacerbated by a weekly game of badminton. Hairs sprouting out of orifices that I wish I could conceal. Apart from that, no big deal.
I forget what age I am but I do know I’m at that stage where I can fart freely without any embarrassment.
Fart freely? You mean some folk don’t and can alter that? Blimey……
Fart freely – I didn’t even realise there was a charge.
You mean someone is going to send me an Invoice at some time?
I must be in serious debt
Wasn’t Fart Freely in Kiss?
Time is a jet plane which moves too fast.
Well I am 62, and I find as I get older I get increasingly intolerant, and I rage against the PC brigade that tell me what I can think and what I can’t think. I rage against the lack of common sense in our society. I rage against stupidity in society. I wish that young musicians would learn their trade and stop looking for instant stardom, I wish Bob Monkhouse was still alive. I wish that I had taken up that Maureen’s offer of a night of passion away back in 1996. Stupid boy. I also have osteoarthritis in my knuckles which means I can’t hit the more that 250 yards straight off the tee. Mind you I couldn’t before I had the arthritis either, so maybe that doesn’t count. I wish my son would phone me, he said he would this weekend… probably out enjoying himself..twat. I wish the “The Beatles: An Appreciation” was a compulsory subject in our schools.I can still run a 10k in under 55 minutes tho’, so it ain’t all bad. Oh SteveT, agreed, what is this hair growing from the all about? And why have I just as much hair on my neck as I have on my head?
For Tracey Ullman, who’s going through a horrendous time right now
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdfgF1PKfV4
Oops wrong thread sorry. A con of getting old example there.
I’m 55. Suddenly the disconnect between the age I am and the age I imagine I am has become a chasm. Older than the Prime Minister? Than the Governor of the Bank of England? Than Nigel bloody Farage?
Over the years, I’ve certainly hit it with a big stick. Drugs, drink, gambling, late late nights and wild wild times.
However, I’ve always been disciplined enough to focus on work when I needed to and I was good at what I did.
As a result, I was useful to people far cleverer than me who built businesses which sold for big money to other people more clever still.
So, if money is not an issue, not being useful is becoming one. I recently gave up my last real job and now work in a number of consultancy and advisory roles. Not having somewhere to be, doing something that needs to be done is starting to gnaw away at me.
For thirty years plus, there were deadlines, imperatives, outcomes I had to meet. Now, it’s knowledge, insight, counsel I need to provide. Somehow, gratifying and yet insufficient
With no wife or children and, as only child, with neither parent left living, I’ve come to realize that I may have let what I do, rather than what I am, define me. My ex-wife would agree.
Physically, I’m in good shape. Far better than I deserve to be given my previous disregard for clean living. Rarely drink now and have left the white lines far behind. A near vegetarian diet, give or take a rare steak now and then, yoga, running and weights. Dispacement activity? Who knows.
It’s not my physical being that I worry about. It’s my place in the world. It’s not the knees that ache. It’s the soul.
Fin,
Become a volunteer for whatever floats your boat.
Become a volunteer driver for the local hospital, work at the local Oxfam shop etc.
I second volunteering. You’ll get a lot out of it and will meet lots of interesting people. Join some sort of club; reading, movies, rambling, the gym, football, music, whatever floats your boat. A friend of mine recently retired. He was always a season ticket holder at Everton. He’s joined a fan club and goes to every away match in their coach. He’s travelled all over, including Europe, and they stay overnight. The match is a secondary consideration.
I would certainly add my voice to the benefits of volunteering. I had a period of unemployment a while back and volunteered (for my soul and to show any future employers that I wasn’t a waste of space). It does help, adds some structure for your day and you get a sense of usefulness. I am sure you must have a lot to contribute.
Pros: None.
I would say not being dead is quite a big pro.
that’ll teach me to read the whole thread (it won’t).
Most of what you say resonates with me F_F (I’m 61). One other thing is my relationship with my kids, who are all young adults now. With the two oldest (25 and 22) there’s a def sense that I’ve been left behind – they have careers and partners and lives of their own that don’t involve me in a daily basis – or even weekly or monthly sometimes.
I am officially 67, but being married to a woman 14 years my junior I’m as old as…you know the rest. We’ve just taken out a 30-year mortgage, so I guess ANZ Bank are pinning their hopes on her.
I find that almost everything about growing old is a pro and a con simultaneously. It’s pleasing when people can’t believe you’re 67, but at the same time they can’t believe you’re so old. It’s nice to be asked to explain something like the Cuban Missile Crisis, but depressing when you see faces go blank when you decided to tell people about the Cuban Missile Crisis without being asked. Especially when you’ve already done it once.
It’s great to have been born at exactly the right time (I was 8 when Heartbreak Hotel came out, 15 when Love Me Do came out), but alarming to be in the company of people for whom the Beatles are dad music, or at best older brother music.
I’ve behaved very badly indeed at various times in my life, and that weighs on me. On the other hand my offspring are in good work and stable relationships, and that makes me happy. (I just wish they’d get on with the grandchildren already.)
It’s depressing that the list of ailments gets longer – my left achilles tendon has suddenly decided to play up, so I hobble like a really old man for the first 15 minutes after I get up. On the other hand, I’m probably fitter than I’ve been for 30 years, thanks in large part to the GLW making a long-term project of turning me into a grey panther. (When we got married she said she was already planning our 30th anniversary celebrations, but doesn’t seem to expect much to happen after that.) And of course the moment you go to the hardware store and return with everything except what you actually went for, you start worrying about Alzheimer’s, while being perfectly aware that forgetfulness is merely a sign of getting old.
Another sign of getting old is rambling on. So I’ll just stop there and head off to the farmer’s market, which is where I was going when this thread distracted me. Or was I going to the hardware store…?
Nicely written Mike. I agree on the fitness side – I do more physical exercise now than I ever did and feel the benefit of it. I am 8 years older than my wife and my biggest concern is retiring while she is still working and not being able to do the dream trips we have been planning. Need to make arrangements to counteract that somehow.
I maintain anyone who was born in the early 1950s has had the best life ever in the history of humans.
Ok, let me obviously rephrase that, anyone white, middle class and straight has had the best life ever etc etc. They’ve experienced the best time economically, artistically, sexually, spiritually, medically.
Had it all.
Missed the war, always had a job with a pension, enjoyed all the best music and cinema up to this day. They can even communicate with old friends through social media. so they’re not even lonely in their dotage. And they are all going to be brown bread before Western civilisation goes to shit.
My heart bleeds. I’m nearly fifty and so does other parts of my body.
A whippersnapper of 43 writes….
Spiritually, for lack of a better word, I’ve never felt better. Cycles of maturity and immaturity and a woman I love…this is who I’ve felt best about.
Mentally, the old steel trap is starting to grow gradually rustier.
Physically? The continual and relentless sports that never really stopped is starting to show. Tears here and there; bouts of immobility, aches, pains, the lot. Still wouldn’t have changed it.
I turned 49 this week.
It’s Sunday March 29th at half past two /three in the morning.
I’ve dreaded this moment for twelve years. Oh shit.
Aww… Happy Birthday (belatedly) Zanti. Will be following you agewise in a few months time. Ah sod it! I’d rather be in the headspace I’m in now than the one I was in 20/25 years ago. The creaky body’s another matter entirely. A bit more upkeep involved than what used to be the case but what harm? Life ain’t too bad approaching that 50 hill & hopefully not ALL downhill on t’other side.
Cheers x
49 is a great age.
I turn 50 in August and will then become a great prog rock bore who doesn’t listen to much new music.
Erm…
Cons:
– Left knee knackered, various aches and pains, can’t do the intensity of exercise like I used to, and recovery time is longer.
-Skin: something weird happens- loses its elasticity, I suppose; I notice it more when I see young girls- it’s that quality of skin that I guess I must have had when younger but of course I didn’t realise. Youth being wasted on the young, and all that.
Pros:….which far outweigh all of the above:
-Self-knowledge: It’s probably only been in the last couple of years that I’ve actually started to realise what I’m like, the kind of person I actually am and what I want, which hasn’t always been great but it’s more helpful to know than to not know, I guess. Better late than never.
-Less reactivity: I used to be quite fiery and impulsive, which has its benefits, but I’m much more likely to pause and reflect before doing anything/saying anything/making decisions, which I guess relates to the first point.
-Other people: I really value the friends and relationships I have now, and bind people I trust and love quite tightly to me which I didn’t do as much when younger, perhaps.
Totally agree re self knowledge. I’m 51 now and it wasn’t until 45 that I really started to think about exactly what I want to do with my days! Bit late, I know. Now my days are dedicated (as far as possible given the pain-in-the-butt need to scrape a living) to doing exactly and only what makes me happy (which involves a lot of beach, books, music, guitar playing, gym, countryside, etc) and cutting out the things I never really enjoyed (pubs, gigs, parties, city, travel, telly etc). I do hate growing old though. I’m far too vain not to.
Yes, a similar process for me, at about the same age: I got to a stage where I recognised that I didn’t want to live/work/exist/feel the way that I did, and that I had to do something about it, for the sake of whatever little time I had left.
It’s by no means a finished or resolved process, and came very late, but at least that recognition was/is there.
Will be 55 in a couple of months, doesn’t bother me in the least. I’m certainly more relaxed than I was back in my forties, more at ease with people (about bloody time), though I still get furious about things going on which I can’t do anything about. I do wonder what the future holds for me health-wise but can’t do anything about that so take the good and be thankful for all that.
I refuse to be bound by the convention that it all start going to ratshit when you turn 50 or 60. We all know that started around 15 or 16. The only difference now is that you can probably afford to do more stuff, so this is your big chance! I’ve never had a finer music or film collection. I eat well, drink moderately and can generally do pretty much as I please (sorry – the FPO says it’s my turn to do the dishes, so I’ll take a break for now). Coming dear!
If a Time Machine picked me up outside my house and took me back to being born in the early 50s (the same time and age as Tony Blair!!! Really?) I’d have VERY, VERY, strong words with the Captain and insist he press rewind and get me back to being born around 1937-1943.
Hitler’s bombs and London pea-soupers I will risk to be at The Festival of Britain aged 13, in a skiffle group aged 18 and buying Gene Vincent 45s, and the 60s (see the dates of birth of John, Paul, George, Ringo, Mick, Keith etc. etc.).
(P.S. I’d definitely emigrate in 1970).
Pro: Still here
Con: I look like my dad.
Ah, I take back what I said above. “Still here” is of course the big pro.
My Godfather had terrible health problems, and had so many heart attacks we lost count before the end.
I asked him once how he could still be alive, and he replied: “I don’t like the alternative”.
I’m not old, but I’m older than I was. 37. 40 looms a bit, which doesn’t actually bother me except inasmuch as I’m experiencing a slight rebalancing of priorities. My job, which used to fire me with vocation and social purpose, no longer does. I want to see my kids; I’m tired of all the drama I see on a daily basis, and I just want to crack on and do the part of the job I love without all the rest of it (I’m a teacher. For my sins, I’m an assistant headteacher). I want to live my life and enjoy it. I don’t particularly want to change anybody else’s anymore. Realistically, this probably means private sector, which will make some people I know hawk and spit and think less of me, but – another pro of the onset of middle age – I don’t care. 11 years in London comprehensives, I’ve paid my dues.
Bob! Great to have you back!
Thanks! I felt bad about posting personal stuff under the name of our band, though, on account of there’s two of us in it, so I’ve created a different account to post non-band-related things with. I don’t plan to post much, mind – I’ve had nearly 6 months off all social media except Facebook, and I feel quite a lot happier for it! Twitter, for example – never again. 🙂
Random thoughts on having arrived at the tender age of 64 as of last week.
My daughter sent me a link to “When I’m 64”.
I responded I preferred Neil sentiment that “it’s better to rust out than to fade away”.
Am a grandfather for the 1st time. Wasn’t sure how that felt. GLW was knitting for Ireland but I was a bit more ambivalent. I love the little man in our lives. He has also brought us more together as a family.
Last week I was asked my age and when given the enquirer couldn’t believe me. Well that helped the ego.
I agree with previous posters that I lived through the best of times.
How can you describe the heady musical days of the late 60s and early 70s. You really had to be there.
By and large I love my life. I wish I could retire with a large wedge of money but not for 2 years more.
The last 20 years just flew by. In another 20 years I’ll be…………aaarh.
I must live in the day more.
Here endeth random thoughts.
I turned 36 recently, and as someone who has never really paid heed to birthdays I was surprised how old it made me feel.
Two small kids and not enough sleep is definitely a factor, and we’ll be emerging from that period of our lives in the next few months to some extent, but I’ve found myself increasingly grappling with the fact that my youth is coming to an end, and that the speed of life seems to be accelerating. Before it felt like we were just playing at being adults. This feels like the real thing now.
Physically, I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been, but my recovery time from playing football is steadily worsening, which is a sign of things to come. I still play to a reasonably high level, and in a good side, but it’s hard to avoid noticing that some of the opposition are 15 or more years younger than I am. Ten years ago I recognised that the game was one of the great joys of my life and resolved to play as much as I could, while I still could. I’ve made good on that promise, but it really feels like the clock is ticking hard on that front now. The seniors league is surely beckoning in the not too distant future.
Work-wise, I was interested by DC’s post above. When my daughter was born four and a bit years ago I immediately moved jobs, switching a law firm for a far cushier in house job, where the demands (though still material) were far less and I wouldn’t constantly have to choose between work and family. I absolutely love my job and the company I work for now, and it’s delivered exactly what I was looking for, but there’s still a bit of me that misses being really, really pushed, as I used to be, working for difficult bastards and that buzz that came from passing through fire unscathed. I known in my heart that I wouldn’t have the marriage I have, or the relationship with my kids, if I’d carried on down that path, and that it was the right decision to switch, but there’s still a little voice at the back of my head that tells me lies about how maybe I could have somehow balanced it all. I think it’s just that sense that as life goes on you begin to shut doors, and that’s sometimes painful.
Most of all, what makes me feel old is watching as my Mum deals with the deteriorating health of my grandmother, and the sneaking feeling that every time the in laws visit us they seem a little slower, a little scattier. The conveyor belt is audibly crunching along one place, and I don’t want to watch my own parents, who are currently probably more energetic and full of joi de vivre than just about anyone I know, begin to wither away. I want them to stay as they are forever.
I am an extremely lucky man. I am married to a woman I love more than on the day of our wedding, I have two healthy, happy kids, a job I love and I’m surrounded by family and good friends. But there’s that creeping sense that at some point life must stop giving and begin to take away, and that – just maybe – we’re starting to approach that particular hinge. Or maybe I just need a good night’s sleep, who knows? There have been a couple of posts on this blog lately that have made me realise that a low level sense of concern that good things cannot last forever is pretty daft, that these things must be kept in perspective and that sometimes you risk missing the moment in trying to preserve it.
Great thread, everyone. Lots of honesty and wisdom on here – thank you.
36!?!?!?!? Bingo dude… what are you even doing in this thread? You probably still think hangovers are just a headache in the morning!!!
Pros – you learn not to worry about stuff that doesn’t matter. Specifically, all my wrong turns, missed chances, and occasions when I was rude or stupid. Can’t change ’em, can’t learn much from them now, so forgive yourself and move on. Introspection is a waste of time after 50.
I’m very happy to be 50. After 25 years of 60-hour working weeks I feel I’ve put the hard miles in. It’ll be easier from here, and more fun. You cherish relationships more and find that occasionally – not often, but once in a while – you manage to put someone else’s needs or desires above your own. Then you realise you did that because, actually, it was the thing you wanted as well.
Cons – Can’t see the menu or hear the conversation in trendy restaurants. My back aches if I sit, stand or lie down. That’s not music, that’s just shouting. Etc.
I am in my sixtieth year now. That particular milestone flickered past with barely a nod of acknowledgment at the beginning of February. I’ve never paid much heed to birthdays, anniversaries or any of that nonsense. Everyday should be special.
So what have I learned from my sixty years of existence?
Don’t sweat the small stuff and as life is mostly made up of the small stuff let most of it just drift on by.
Learn to cherry pick. You can’t do or have it all, nor are you meant too.
Be forgiving of others and hope they will forgive you. Everyone has value.
Days are fleeting. Fill them with something productive.
There is more but at my advanced years I forget….Oh and buy tweezers. You are going to need them.
Buy tweezers – Amen to that.
‘Buy tweezers – your are going to need them’ – best advice on this thread.
Er…what for?
Wanking!
Ah…
43 in a few weeks. It’s not something that I give a great deal of thought to, to be honest. The thing I have been umming about this year is work, sparked by approaching my twenty year anniversary with the same company. I’ve done alright out of it, been able to work overseas for a prolonged period on two separate occasions, reached a relatively senior level, and I still enjoy it more than I don’t. Thing is, where I’m at now there is only limited opportunity for any more advancement, and even if one did arise, it would involve considerable domestic upheaval and moving from a place I like living, so it’s probably not likely to happen for good reasons. But..I don’t know if I want to spend the next twenty years or so going to the same place doing the same things. What to do?
Recently received my Freedom Pass. Greater London is my oyster.
I think about age all the time at the moment.
I’m dealing with the slow and painful dismemberment of my 85-year-old mum-in-law. Jesus, that sounds like I’ve chopped her up, I’d better rephrase that: dementia is dismantling her, and we are holding her together with sticky tape which on some days it’s increasingly difficult to find the end of. In addition, my previously fit-as-a-flea 79-year-old dad is unrecognisable from the man he was just a couple of years ago after being hit by a truckload of sudden health problems. In what seems like the blink of an eye, he’s gone from making his grandkids giggle by walking up and down the room on his hands, to struggling even to stand up.
So the pros aren’t exactly competing for attention.
And yet…
I’m 43, and I’ve been in a relationship for 25 years with a bloke who remains the best decision I ever made; I’ve a 16-year-old daughter who exceeds every expectation I ever had of her every day; I’ve a six-year-old boy who defied all the odds to even be here, and is celebrating the fact by being consistently hilarious.
And yes, there are advantages to being older. Because you get to realise what’s important. And it ain’t payrises, a high-flying career path, and fancy foreign holidays. You don’t know what’s around the corner. Your carefully-laid plans can be mightily fucked in the time it takes to snap your fingers. What is really important is love and laughter and spending time with those you love and laugh with. Enjoy it. Life races past you – don’t miss it by concentrating on the stuff that doesn’t matter.
Spot on. I feel for you, having been through much the same with my parents. I wish you strength and hope you enjoy the good times.
45 this year, and I am nowhere near as angry and shouty as I once was.
I think I’ve reached that stage of relative comfort now that the kids have departed (2 at University, 1 Working, fourth at college and then on to University).
I don’t think I’m turning into my dad yet (most obviously, I have absolutely no interest in golf), but no doubt the metamorphosis will happen at some point.
I still feel relatively young, full of ambition and hope for the future (in my head I’m still 28).
It seems that I, and close friends around my age, have achieved a state of being “responsibly irresponsible” (ie home, family work sorted out – and then just get on with being daft and enjoying yourself).
Don’t mind the growing OLD, its the growing UP I’m not prepared for.
“Responsibly irresponsible”. I like that, sums up my relationship with my friends nicely.
I am at at a very different stage.
Had my kids late, they will be 5 and 6 when I am 50.
But I filled my 20s, 30s and early 40s with lots of travel and experiences so I do not regret a thing.
Works both ways.
I don’t think there is a “best way”
I just fancied being middle-aged and lazy.
Got all the kids stuff out of the way first. I admit to looking on enviously as friends flew off on exotic holidays, or dropped everything for a weekend away, or actually had some spare cash – but in retrospect feel it was the best way.
One woman friend we know did it the other way round, and now in the midst of a divorce is looking on enviously at me & Mrs D (we do our best not to look too smug)
58, or as I prefer it, forty-eighteen, both good milestones, so if you add ’em together…
Didn’t rate teens and twenties much, so I guess I have as good as I deserve, having grown into myself, at long last. Not to be confused with grown up.
I have been thinking for a little while now about posting an update on my trials & tribulations which came to a head with me becoming unemployed for the first time just before my 58th birthday last year, but rather than starting a new thread, this thread seems a good fit.
My way of writing/ posting is a bit scattergun. I’ve said it before, but I am genuinely in awe of the quality & articulacy (spelling?) of some of the writing on this board/ forum & at our previous 2 homes, so please accept my apologies in advance if this seems all over the place.
There are some new members here, so I will give a quick self history. I am a 58 year old man happily married (for the 4th time – more about that later), & father of 2 sons 28/24 & a 30 something daughter. proud & happy grandfather to 4 grandsons. I was in the armed forces for a while,
(25 years Royal Navy) , & I enjoyed just about every minute. Saw a lot of the world, did a lot of things which gave me a lot of pride, & some things that I am not so proud about.
Left the mob in 96, moved to West Cumbria to take up a poition in a brand new, Gas Turbine Power station.
I was happily married to my wife Karen since 1982, but early 2001 she found a lump in her breast, had some tests followed by surgery, & the upshot of it all was that she died in my arms the month after her 39th birthday. This left me 150+ miles from my nearest family as a single Dad to to young sons.
My life was an absolute disaster zone for many years, I spent a huge amount of money that I didnt have, on things I didnt need. Met, married & divorced a local woman (we initiated divorce proceedings on the week of our second wedding anniversary), when faced with 2 choices in anything I almost always made the wrong decision. My good periods/ bad periods became more & more pronounced, my memory was shot to pieces, I couldnt hold onto important information, this in turn made my financial problems FAR worse.
I was becoming less & less efficient at work, & less & less popular with my work colleagues. Life was not fun.
Funded out of my own pocked, I had a gastric band fitted in 2004, that was unsuccesful & I had it removed last year, since then my weight has increased substantially. I am an insulin dependant diabetic, so weight loss is no longer for reasons of vanity, it is far more important, so that just gives me another thing to worry about.
The job is most definitely NOT a good un…
And yet, I met Carol in 2008, the day after my first grandson was born, we took things nice & slowly/ steady & it has been a joy throughout. Getting married on the day after my 58th birthday last year was quite possibly the best day of my life.
Work wise, I moved from a Gas turbine power station onto a brand new (still in build) Biomass Power station, fecruited primarily because of my deep understanding of electrical machines, generation principals, distributions etc. After start up, it was decided I would be put to work on a different part of the system, primarily driving giant log loading machines. This was something I couldnt take to, & as a result, I was released last year & have been unemployed since.
Because of my military pension, I am not entitled to any state benefits, so it has been a terrible struggle to make ends meet, but somehow or other we are – just.
Carol & I have decided that west cumbria (Workington) has lost its charm & we have put the house up for sale & intend moving down to the Wirral.
BUT, what seem like reasons to feel like not going on (a quick aside – I dont ever remember wishing to take my own life, but have often wished I was dead – make of that what you will – I dont know if that is relevant or not), I feel a lot better, the dread of going to work in a job I hated, with people I didnt like who didnt like me is no longer there.
I am not for one second thinking that things will never turn dark again, but I cant remember feeling better able to cope with it if things do.
OK, thats my lot for now. Apologies again for rambling & lacking logic/ coherence, hope you all enjoy whats left of the weekend. (& the sun has come out)
Les. (JTB)
No apologies necessary, Les. I remember the stress you were under at the end of your job, so it’s good to read that you’re on bit of an upswing at the moment.
And of course once you and Carol have got yourselves settled on The Wirral you will have no excuse for not visiting us across the river in soggy Wales.
Five Cons:
Having to go to the toilet several times during the night. All your dreams involve you bursting for a piss looking for a toilet with sanitary conditions
Having stubble looks scruffy rather than rugged now.
Not being able to wear certain T shirts anymore because they make you look like Comic Book Guy or a roadie.
Talking to people in their early thirties who haven’t a clue who The Beat were.
Realising you’re now the age of the old saxophonist,, Saxa from The Beat as he was in 1979.
Oh god, the night wees. Every January I go on a walking tour with three mates. Our combined age is 208 and we share a room in a hostel. If you do get to sleep over the smell of socks, the tossing and turning, the farts, the snoring, the teeth grinding and the sleep apnea (snore… snore… GASP….silence…silence…silence….GASP) you’re immediately woken by the first of the night-weeers banging the door shut as he goes out of the room. As there’s been a fair bit of beer consumed earlier in the evening, everyone goes twice. That’s one every hour until breakfast.
Frankly it’s a wonder any of us is still married.
Your four spouses probably really look forward to January…tell your door-slamming mate to get his act together. I have mastered the art of silent padding, seat raising etc – it’s not hard.
A lot of my dreams involve my Mum & Dad. I dread them.
They are so vivid that every time I awake from them it feels like being bereaved again and again and again.
It’s why I often go out walking at night or stay up and draw.
I fear sleep. It’s awful.
I know that feeling, Pencil. Know it very well. Dreams. I don’t dread them, but yeah, waking up and remembering the reality can truly be so fecking sad.
A part of me obviously thinks that my parents’ deaths were a big misunderstanding on my part. I dream of them quite often.
57 – Oh the variety !
Full and part, share of total of 4 boys – the Nogkids, from 22 to 13.
Took 3 of them to the Woolwich Arse ground today to see Brazil v Chile.
Great fun, before, during and after.
Partner is a gem and luckily indulges my many shortcomings – and vice-versa !
Help to coach Nogsmall the Small’s football team and love every minute.
Work as an Assistant Head in a London comp.I’ve now done time at 5 and two years in Zimbabwe with VSO.
Will do it until I’m 60 – I hope – as I’m aware that I’m an old codger and I’m not sure that as part of the Listen with Mother, generation I’ve got too much in common with the Instagram generation.
As a teen I went to see Rory Gallagher and played his records to death.
Am still doing the latter.
Sunday night is phone call to the University Nogs, followed by an album while the paper is read.
( Tonight it will be the Cardinal album Hymns – purchased yesterday at Spitalfields independent label day.)
I get to 20 games a year at Spurs and can still haul my creaky carcass out for half an hour of jogging at 5.30, for 5 days a week.
Parents are no longer with and are missed on a daily basis.
It could, however, be so much worse……………….there could be a Tory government being propped up by a bunch of Lib Dem weasels……………. oh what, when did that happen ?
Genuinely, however, I’m massively grateful for what and who I have to enrich my life.
Happy to have much more of it !
I`m 65 i n June and can`t be arsed wittering on about it.
Five pros:
Not giving a toss about keeping up with all the latest new music. Around 2005, this happened. The Bravery? No, ta! Life’s too long.
Looking into local history. It’s fun, isn’t it? Ninety years ago, I appeared to live in an area where there was a cinema on every corner rather than a pound shop.
Not getting so many colds. Apparently, there are only a certain amount of strains one can contract in a lifetime? Can DrVolume verify this? Assuming, he/she is a doctor of medicine.
Watching all these young people getting tied in knots over Facebook, Twitter…other social media bollocks. Don’t care mate.
Thank gawd, all this didn’t exist when I was a teen. The idea of me being able to upload my poor home movies, Soundcloud terrible attempts at songwriting and Tweet my adolescent thoughts of 1980 chills to the marrow. There. Forever.
The main comforting thing about getting old is being safe in the knowledge that it happens to everyone (if one doesn’t cark it before their time, obv). How reassuring it is, that any young person sneering at my ever encroaching alienation to modernity will probably feel exactly the same as me in thirty years time.
and on that bombshell…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSJlZvQ3XgE
The best part of this post being that The Bravery’s last big hit was released a notch above ten years ago. 🙂
Oh Christ, that’ll teach me to read in a hurry. As you were, ignore me.
Oh Bob, more disappointment.
Jolly nice to see you back on board Bob!
65 and currently on a holiday in snowcovered Perthshire surrounded by snowcovered highland coos and snowcovered birdies.
Pros of being 65 – retirement is simply grand; who cares about meagre pension, the freedom, the freedom! The cutest grandson in all the world (that’s a fact). Finally accepting my “taste” in music art, films etc is my taste (although still get led astray by bounders like Tiggs ands his bloody Kendrick Lamar)
Cons – aches and bloddy pain everywhere despite regular exercise (mostly running through the local vineyards): Mum now best friends with Mr Alzheimer: son going through painful breakup and close to breakdown from being a teacher in a bloody Academy – wish I was nearer to him to hold his hand over a pint or two of Adnams.
Ah but I was so much older then…
At your age, you need someone to lead you astray! Don’t thank me now.
Rather late coming to this thread. It feels a bit like an AA meeting.
” My name is John and I’m …….sixty bloody one.” In denial? You bet!
Then again, looking back I’ve never been content with my age.
In 67 I was a bit too young to enjoy the Summer of Love. Instead of being in Frisco with flowers in my hair, I was at a scout camp on the Isle of Wight.
in 77 I was a bit too old to be a bona fide punk.
And so it goes on.
Cons?
My body can’t manage all that moshing and pogoing any more. And it’s rare that I have the stamina for an all-nighter.
Pros?
Having experienced a certain amount, I’m not so easily impressed and am less likely to go dashing after the latest bandwagon.
I’m also far more thick-skinned about what other people think . Mrs KFD worries about stuff. “What will people say if you write that or do that?”
“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
KFD aka John – I am amazed at your seemingly unslakable thirst for new music, literature and films. The odd throwaway comment you make also reveals an encyclopedic knowledge of sometimes very obscure stuff. are you one of those people that retains incredible amounts of information? Like a photographic memory kind of thing?
This is a genuine question because I met someone today who claims a photographic memory – but I’m not convinced. However, I think you’re the real deal.
Been great reading the many replies to my opening thread – I do feel a real kinship with everyone here although have to smile at the youngsters (i.e. pre 40) who are already aware of the advancement of age !
Best of all there are people here older than me – thank you.
Here are some prophetic words from my favourite artist – a man old before his time
And time has told me
Not to ask for more
For someday our ocean
Will find its shore
Ah hell let’s have the track as well
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cche-h83qNQ
Nick Drake would have been 67.
There’s some very humbling stuff in this thread. I’m with Jack – often I wish it was all over (without wanting to make that happen). It’s just all such a struggle – financially, emotionally, finding a sense of purpose, all the rest of it – and so full of sadness.
I’m 46 and all I think about, really, is making it to retirement. The terrible weight of expectations and guilt and feeling like a disappointment – and living through disappointment – will be over. Some people just aren’t made to ‘fit in’ with the ‘world of work’ and that’s been my experience – no point now in gnashing teeth over it, I just try and do projects that don’t feel like a waste of life (because all of the jobs I’ve had did) and stumble on. I know I think too much about that sort of thing, but that’s just the way I am – and we can’t help that. You can train yourself to try and look at things in a more upbeat way, and I do most of the time these days – with a wobble now and again – but I long for some kind of feeling of the struggle being over.
October Song:
Ever since hitting 50, I’ve been a proponent of the we’re-into- the-final-third -so-no-time-left-for-irrelevant-stuff line (I don’t claim this wisdom as original thought, loads of you think similarly, don’t you?).
Now I’ve hit 60, I still think that’s the right way to go. Life’s just basically time management based on your wants/needs/loves/experiences and hitting the right balance is the basic skill in managing your happiness. Generally, learning to say no is a major step to maturity. I’m very lucky to have kids to watch growing up and to have a job I enjoy doing. That’s a lot of my time right there, the rest goes on entertainment (media freak), whether alone or with family or friends.
Yes, Colin, life is a struggle but you’ve got one heart and one shot and shouldn’t feel responsible for the perceived expectations of others (he said blithely). One thing I have learned in my 60 years: it’s real easy to think others have it easy, in fact, hardly anyone has.
And Pencil, great point about the tweezers (I’ve got 3 pairs) and let me add my newest acquisition – a magnifying glass! Can now read CD cases for the first time in ages (I’m a vinyl guy).
I will be 59 next month, & am very conscious of the changes in my world/ body/ mind.
The thing is tho, its not all bad. Every time I go to a concert I think I am going to look out of place, but when I get there there are loads of other people my age & older. I have promised myself for years that I didnt want to conform to what beliefs & behaviours other people had of me, & if I could turn the clock back, I wouldnt. I like being the age I am.
Being the age I am allows me to yell & cheer at concerts without worrying what others think of me (Likewise, I love Karaoke but have a terrible singing voice – genuinely couldnt give a shit)
I love not having to pretend to like or dislike music/ TV/ books/ films just because others do – Band/concert Tee shirts? – I honestly cant get enough.
The constant getting up for a pee several times a night was a nuisance, but since I have been on insulin it rarely happens (I know there are Doctors here – is that a result of being on insulin or just coincidence? – I am fucked if I know), although I have to sit down when I pee nowadays, & rarely manage more than a dribble.
I know, I know, too much information…
I grew a bit of a beard last November (The Movember thingy), what wasnt grey was white – I should not have been surprised, what with the grey pubes and all…
The chop chop, bang bang, busy busy, work work lifestyle that I used to live has changed to a stay at home, change the beds, cook the tea type of lifestyle, there isnt a lot of money for a social life, but my party animal days are way back in time, so staying in all the time isnt much of a hardship.
Like some people have said, I seem to have less colds, but more aches & pains, (swings & roundabouts come to mind).
Depression/ mood swings/ general feelings of melancholy seem to be on hold at the moment, but I will never be as foolish to say that they wont ever come back – I am sure they will, but hopefully I will be better at recognising the early signs, & things wont stay so dark for so long. (fingers crossed)
Wish/ bucket list? To be the best Husband/ Dad/ Grandad I can be, to enjoy (NOT endure) what ever time I have left, & to continue slaughtering Beds are burning/ Come together/ Radar love on the karaoke – its not much to ask for is it?
Insulin vs peeing, Les? Glycosuria (sugar piss) makes you pee more, so less sugar, less peeing.
(That’ll be sixty guineas)
Re old guys at concerts: I’m all for it, what makes me sad are all the really old ones who are younger, if you get my drift. Some folk just behave old before their time.
I’m with Dylan on this:
I’m 46 with two daughters under 5, so sometimes I feel time is running out and I will be working till I drop, but then I slap on a happy face and look forward to another day.
I’m 52 and starting to think of how to get off the hamster wheel and have more time for enjoyable and fulfilling activities…well, that’s the theory.
We don’t have kids and we have nearly paid the mortgage, so it would be almost feasible to retire soon. However, I don’t want to be like my Dad who retired at 54, which I think was too early. In terms of my career, I’m at the peak of my abilities, so a part of me doesn’t want to even think of giving that up just yet.
60 seems like the right kind of milestone to me. Hopefully, we’ll both be in good health and able to get out and walk, ski, etc. We met a couple last week who are in their mid 70s and still skiing and also sail across the North Sea in their 30ft yacht!
I have a colleague who is 79 and the oldest working Chartered Surveyor in Sheffield! He works a couple of half days a week (plus more when needed), but has an incredibly active life which involves a choir, cooking for the elderly, various committees, walking, drawing and travelling. He’s just never sat back and said I’m too old to do anything. He’s a real inspiration, in fact.
Pass me a tissue and a goblet of Shiraz…
Well I’m forty…
CONS
– I now put on weight and need to exercise because I am too young to be fat. This sucks.
– Career frustrations. I have a bunch of skills and an enviable CV, but leaving a safe, potentially well renumerated berth to risk the freelance life, just before the crash of 2008 has put me back by about five years I reckon. Wasn’t arsed about this before babies appeared on the scene, now I am.
– Comely young women who, when I was young, actively avoided me, now seem unaware of my existence. I am happily married, but would like to cause young women pause, as they ponder the life of unabashed sensual and material delights they will now fail to get having failed to grab me in time. The fact that this isn’t happening saddens me.
– My drink and drug intake has shrivelled up as I cannae hack it anymore, making me feel like a woose.
PROS
– Happily married with a child so no real personal anxieties anymore.
– Under no obligation to pretend to be other than what I am.
– No longer working minimum waged unskilled jobs.
– Not trapped in Cumbernauld.
– My drink and drug intake has shrivelled up as I cannae hack it anymore, making me feel like a responsible member of society.
– Not dead.
On reflection, the pros outweigh the cons…