The end of ambition, involuntary grunts and a mistrust of bathroom fittings. All things to look forward to …
The parameters of middle age have been generously expanded over the years; for a long time I thought I might avoid old age altogether, because the minimum qualifying limit was sliding forward faster than I was. Middle age, by some definitions, now extends to 60, or even 65, which still gives me a bit of a reprieve.
But I know this to be a mere technicality; a loophole, and slim comfort. I’m 59, and that’s pretty old. So old it doesn’t feel like a privilege, even if it’s preferable to the alternative. What have I learned about what it’s really like to get old? Not a lot, but here it is. I thought I’d better write it down before I forget it.
