Pass me the walking frame now...

At the end of this month I'm fifty-six years old. As a small child I would have thought this age to be cobweb covered ancient. Beyond ancient - almost one hundred, give or take a year as percieved from my naive nine year old's advantage point.. If you could see me right now typing away with the heating on full, slumped on the settee, still in my dressing gown and it being well past midday; feeling yucky with a runny nose, head cold and a glass of medicinal Jack Daniels by my side (courtesy of kind neighbour - by the way) you might well believe my smug childhood self was correct.

smug little git

Today I lost my glasses three times and couldn't find the house key more than once and got bad tempered when I continually struggled to put on my boxer shorts without toppling over. The proceedure took three wobbly goes in all. We don't even talk about putting on socks without straining my back. When I get the left sock on it is a miracle of acheivement on the lines of the discovering the Americas or a cure for the common cold. The right one takes a decade longer to put on and then, frustratingly, I find it is inside out. And this action of 'putting on the socks' entails more huffing and puffing action than the Wolf did oustide the home of the Three Little Pigs.

Painting a good picture aren't I? Attractive huh?

What ever happened to all those years ago when I would run for fun, miles and miles, in  tennis pumps! And cycle, again miles and miles up and down the hills of Derbyshire, for the simple joy of it all. Wind in me hair and all that. Hair, aaah, hair, down the proverbial plughole of life it has gorn. One day Leo Sayer, next day Jean Luc Picard without the six pack. Or a Next Generation Starship Enterprise for that matter.

My friend Rebecca cutely refers to my sixty pack as my Buddha Belly. I have trained for many years inbibing beer to get to this level of tummy so I must surely be credited with some honour in this regard. As they say in the Far East: the Budai figure generally represents happiness and the same reason praying brings miracles, rubbing the figure brings luck. Form an orderly queue here.

I previously mentioned hair.

Question:How come hair won't grow on a large proportion of the rear of my head but will grow in abundance from my ears and nose? And why is there one very wirey hair that insists on growing in the middle of the bald spot when all its fellow hairs gave up the ghost many years ago? AND, more importantly WHY does Leo Sayer STILL have a full head of hair forty years on? I bought all his bloody albums for God's sake. Ungrateful bastard!

Answers on a postcard to Age Concern c/o Phil Lowe please.

Going for a siesta now. Make sure nurse has my hot milk ready for when I return.