I am rapidly approaching a Significant Birthday.
It doesn’t bother me at all. In fact I don’t think about it that much, except that I am beginning to collect pamphlets on claiming free television licences [I don’t know why – never pay the fucking thing anyway], free travel and special hotel offers for Golden Oldies.
I was down with Doc a couple of days ago, as it was time for my routine overhaul. Everything is ticking`over reasonably well, and he took a few pints of
alcohol blood for a battery of tests.
“The Big One coming up?” he says as he stuck yet another needle in my arm. “How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t feel about it” says I. “It’s just a number.”
“But it’s a significant number” he said as he filled another milk bottle with blood. “How do you feel about yourself now? What do you think when you look in the mirror?”
“For fuck’s sake” says I. “Who do you think I am? Pat Kenny? I don’t go around preening myself in front of mirrors. The only time I use them is when I’m squeezing blackheads.”
“But who do you see? Do you not think you look older?”
I hadn’t a clue what he was on about, but I had to humour him otherwise he might drain my entire blood supply.
“Honestly?” I said. “I don’t think I look any different from the way I looked last week. The beard is a bit greyer.”
“It is that. The rest of your hair is still dark and plentiful though. Do you dye it?”
The one thing I have never done in my life is to dye my hair. The very idea gives me the creeps. As Herself keeps pointing out, no one can accuse me of vanity. The very mention of hair dye makes me see red, though this time the red I saw was Doc’s blood and not mine [I hope]. I left him moaning on the floor and went home in a huff.
There was a programme on last night on television. ‘Horizon’ did a yoke on the causes of aging. Mind you, I could tell them that – aging is caused by a little thing called time.
It was the usual Horizon style of programme. They had long interviews with doctors and scientists and they examined groups of people who are living to a ripe old age. I noticed that in one of the groups that they mentioned, they accidentally said that one third of the oldies smoked, I don’t know how that little gem got past the censor? They interviewed a doctor who was spending tens of thousands of dollars a year on tablets because he wants to live to be a couple of hundred years old. Daft fucker! Who the fuck wants to spend a hundred years sitting dribbling spit in a pool of their own piss and staring at a wall because no one has time for them?
I don’t mind being a Significant Age.
In my head I’m still thirty or so, and if the old body says differently, then that’s life. There isn’t much I can do about it.
Actually, I’m looking forward to the big day.
Because it is a Significant One, maybe I’ll get some decent presents for a change?