Hmmnnn ….

They say of London buses that when you need one they don’t come for ages – and, when eventually they do, several arrive in convoy.

As a senior citizen, I say similarly damn this internet thing, whose most annoying aspect is almost the reverse. When you read something of note somewhere on a newspaper website one day … and then try to find it again the next so that you can enlighten your fellow Rust readers … you cannot do it for love nor money!

Anyway, since providing evidential support for my themes and arguments has never been a particular concern, here goes:

Over the weekend, I think it was either Friday or Saturday but unfortunately cannot prove it, I saw a report in my hard copy of The Times on new research just published to the effect that the average expectation of ‘active healthy lives’ for those of us aged over 65 has been decreasing. Apparently, between 2011 and 2014 for men it has gone down from 10.6 years to 10.3, for women from 11.1 years to 10.9.

My immediate reaction was mixed. On the one hand the fact that ‘active healthy life expectancy’ actually existed at all as a concept in medical science seemed a mildly frightening and chastening prospect, yet on the other it seemed about right.

In my own case, looking back as I did the other day, I suspect that it was at about the age of fifty-eight (these days I’m a bit hazy on identifying when exactly things in the past happened because these days time seems to go by so fast) that I first noticed my own signs of ageing.

I’m not talking about the everyday aches and pains that gradually become more noticeable/frequent, but specific things that become a feature of daily life.

For me, the first of these was a growing difficulty to retain my balance on one leg whilst thrusting the other into a leg opening of my underpants or trousers. This I began countering by holding onto a window ledge or arm of a chair with one hand whilst holding my underpants or trousers in ‘receiving’ place with the other – a practice that I retain today and now probably always will.

It’s a small thing, of course. At the time I didn’t give it much thought. Something comes upon you, so you simply adapt your life to accommodate it.

It reminds me of my all-time favourite Tommy Cooper joke – “A man goes to see his doctor. ‘And what’s your problem?’ asks the doctor. (Raising his elbow in line with his shoulder) the man says ‘It hurts when I do that …?’ The doctor replies ‘Well, don’t do that, then …’).

This latest research is suggesting that at 65 I’ve probably got only about another ten years before the proverbial health wheels really start falling off.

The irony is that it’s part of the human condition that inside we all regard ourselves as aged permanently somewhere between 18 and 25 unless and until the evidence (e.g. in the shaving mirror, or your own kids reaching thirty themselves or getting married, or forgetfulness, or a propensity to take afternoon naps, or lack of stamina) gradually forces you to accept otherwise.

I like to think that I’ve never had a problem with being whatever age I happen to be. My view on that hasn’t changed. However, the idea that once I get to 75 it will thereafter be ‘downhill all the way’ somehow bugs me, even though logically I know it must be true.

What was it that Robin Williams’ university lecturer character in the 1989 movie Dead Poets Society used to drum into his students – ‘Carpe Diem’ (Seize The Day!)? It seems an appropriate rallying call as we all begun another new week …