What age are you in your head?

Hello and welcome …

Which is better – back in the day, or now? Or are they just the same, but different? I wonder …

This week I celebrated my 64th birthday and I just can’t buggery bollocky believe that I am now 64, possibly because in my head I still think I am approximately 28. This partly came about some time ago after I was asked the question “God forbid, but if you were woken from a coma with absolutely no memory, and no mirror, and covered in a blanket from the neck down, how old would you think you are?”

It didn’t take me long to estimate that I was about twenty eight years old (even though I was actually in my fifties at that time).

I wonder if it was because I consider my twenty eighth year here on Earth as my absolute favourite. I still had my parents, I looked young (because I was), I was healthy, I loved my then husband (well, perhaps loved is a bit strong, but I quite liked him), I lived in a nice home in a lovely part of the country, holidayed in exotic locations, and my pride and joy at that time (apart from my dog and my cat, obviously) was a metallic baby powder blue super fast targa top sports car with a most luxurious suede interior (all of which I was hopelessly in love with).

Fast forward thirty six years to today (not so far in the greater universal scheme of things) and it’s a very different picture … my darling parents have both sadly departed, I no longer look in my twenties (no, honestly), I suffer from various aches and pains etc (but they are at a level that’s tolerable), I’m divorced (several times over but always my choice), I still have a nice home thankfully but I no longer go on holidays abroad (because I don’t want to leave my dogs), and I still drive a sporty little car (but a way more sensible version).

So, having pondered all of the above I would surmise that by far and away the one thing about being this age which has affected me the most is the loss of my beloved parents and my various much loved pets along the way.

Any other disappointments are far outweighed by the prevailing sense of calm which seems to envelop me these days. In fact, it’s slowly beginning to dawn on me that I may have finally become a grown up. Probably just as well, given that most members of my family have lived well into their nineties which means I could be here for another thirty years or more.

In fact, my best friend Lucy and I made a pact several years ago that we would spend our last days living together and caring for one another – although Lucy quickly pointed out that she expected the level of care I would receive to be far superior to the level of care she would receive.

And now I wonder what will life be like in yet another thirty six years … I hope I get to have a jet pack. And one of those scooters that hovers about three feet off the ground, I’d love to travel across the English Channel on one of those to have afternoon tea in France. And a really handsome sex robot (just as arm candy, rather like an ultra modern futuristic walking aid). Perhaps I haven’t grown up after all …

 

 

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