I don’t recall the year, but I was young, probably pre-teen, when I had this thought:
Sixty is old. Can’t imagine I’ll ever be that old.
Yet, here I am, two days from reaching that milestone. And I have to say, it doesn’t feel old at all.
Of course, I have some aches and pains associated with advancing age. My hips and knees are a little dodgy, probably from the rugby and football I played in my younger days, but they’re not in such bad shape yet. And I do a lot of walking to keep myself mobile and to try to keep the weight down, though that’s a struggle as my metabolism seems to have taken early retirement.
Parts of me are deteriorating. My hair started disappearing in my early twenties, so no surprise I’m almost totally bald by now, and my eyesight has always been on the short side. My teeth aren’t in the best shape and my hearing is not as sharp as it once was.
But I’m lucky: I don’t yet need any moving parts replaced; I don’t suffer with arthritis or osteoporosis; apart from the aneurysm I suffered in my knee in 2020, requiring emergency bypass surgery, I haven’t yet experienced any major health scares. (Fate, if you’re listening, I’m really not trying to tempt you, okay?)
So, physically, things could be much worse. What about mentally?
All I can say is I haven’t noticed any diminution in my mental faculties. Doesn’t mean it isn’t happening, just that I haven’t noticed it.
Ever since the BBC series Grumpy Old Men aired in the early noughties, my family have called me a grumpy old man. And I own it. I am getting more cantankerous, increasingly irritated by the state of the world. I find my tolerance for stupidity and unkindness grows lower by the day.
But turning sixty isn’t that bad, especially when considering the alternative. And there’s a bonus: on attaining sixty, we become entitled to a pass which allows us free travel on buses throughout Wales and parts of England.
One of my old school friends, who turned sixty a few weeks back, has been waiting patiently for me to catch up so he has someone to hop on the bus with—not sure where we’ll go, but I’ll bet it’s somewhere with a pub near the bus stop.
So happy big birthday to me for Sunday. There will be beer.
