I have taken to singing to myself and not just in the privacy of the shower or my car. Unconsciously singing, humming and hopefully not talking, though I have caught myself doing this too, with no awareness, and now I find out that I do it even when others are around. My brother recently told me that my mother used to sing and hum all the time. This is not a comfort to me, not a bit of it. She did not do this when I (and she) was young. To me, the mutterings and singing I indulge in are a sign of increasing decrepitude. I am getting old. Not old old, if you know what I mean, but older than I would like to see myself.
My friend has let her grey hair grow in. No more tyranny of hair dye, no more root re-growth, no more odd shades of brown every other month. She looks wonderfully silvery and regal. Am I ready for this as the next step - not yet. My hairdresser assures me that it is too soon, not enough grey, he says (bless him). I now wear glasses all the time. How weird. As a child I was envious of the kids who wore glasses. They always looked so smart. Now I am envious of those who can see without them, though the circles I move in seem to consist of a mostly be-spectacled crowd. It used to be that my arms were just not long enough for me to read, now I could be an orangutan and I still couldn't see without my glasses.
Every week now I get special offers for discounted insurance for the over 60's. I don't mind this and mostly throw them straight in the bin, but the mailshots offering me waterproof mattress covers and sit down bathtubs with side doors are too much of a reminder of the future I am not ready to face. And I am certain that jar lids are tighter than they used to be and most packaging is designed not to be opened, until I hand it to my son!
Discounts on the cinema, travel, museum entry, all these are very welcome, but comments from my doctor about 'not getting any younger' and 'at your age' are not. My memory is still pretty good though events from 20 or 30 years ago begin to seem like yesterday. Hearing the Beatles on the radio in a local shop feels completely normal. It is, after all, contemporary music. I have taken to walking out of cafes and restaurants with loud music and welcome a bit of peace and quiet. Other people's children drive me nuts and my own children are reaching the age where they contemplate botox and worry about receding hairlines.
I phoned a friend the other night - older than me - at 9.30pm, and the first question I asked was 'did I wake you?' If the phone rings after 10 pm in my house the first question is 'what's wrong?' Luckily my kids live thousands of miles away and the time difference means they have to phone late so I am used to the phone ringing at midnight though I usually don't hear it. Dinner times have shifted too. I used to think nothing of going out to eat at 9 pm. Now my digestion complains when I eat late. I remember a few years ago laughing at an older friend who wanted to come for dinner at 6.30 -7 pm. Now that seems a great idea. So hard to digest food eaten late.
When did I start to feel that going downtown into the West End of London was so much trouble? I go to the hairdresser and sometimes a gallery or museum, but the idea of getting on a train and just wandering around the crowded shops has lost all its appeal and since when did we all need so much choice? Local shops are just fine now and our little weekend walks are getting slower and we certainly carry less home from the shops.
All these things add up to the passing of the years. Normal, I know and actually kind of funny, but also the physical limitations and the way the world feels too big now are a drag. Someone told me that one of the ways you know you're old is that your back goes out more than you do. Well, at least my back is fine and my mind is clear, I think. If I start to forget things and act even more strangely than usual I expect that my friends will let me know,or at least the ones that can still remember how we used to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment