Time and Perception

Some might put the following statement down to the wisdom that comes with age – it’s the kind of thing that we senior citizens tend to have to claim in a vain hope to remain relevant and/or current – but so much of life is grounded in people’s perceptions, both those we harbour ourselves and then those of others that we come across, either overtly or by accident.

There’s no way of sugaring this particular pill. Yesterday I received an unwelcome metaphorical ‘slap in the face’ on the topic of ageing that brought me up short in my tracks.

You know how it is.

The human condition requires that instinctively we cannot help but believe – in the style of The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde’s scandalous only novel, first published in 1890, in which the protagonist sells his soul in order to ensure that a portrait of him will age, thereby enabling him to enjoy a life of sensuality/debauchery without doing so – that whereas everyone around us is constantly getting visibly older, we ourselves are not.

The syndrome was once perfectly encapsulated by a comment made decades ago now by my then 79 year-old granny who once memorably told my cousin and I who were visiting her for lunch: “I may look like an eighty year-old, but inside I’m still only eighteen”.

These days I frequently find myself tut-tutting with a combination of pity and derision at images of superannuated former gods of Hollywood, the music industry and/or sport whom these days appear in the public eye in a variety of frighteningly different forms to how they once looked, i.e. at the height of their careers.

There’s a certain amount, but only a certain amount, that careful attention to detail and then maintenance – in the forms of either surgical intervention, serum application, wigs, hair dyeing and transplants, liposuction and/or a determined fitness programme – can achieve.

We’ve all seen horrendous examples of both male and female stars in their fifties (and over) who now look like waxworks with puffy, bloated, features and now resemble little more than cartoon, exaggerated, versions of themselves.

And – in the process of scoffing at these poor unfortunates – simultaneously feeling smug and proud of ourselves for not having descended to such pathetic panderings to self-regard and vanity.

“How so ….?” I hear someone ask.

Simple – I repeat: it’s the ‘granny syndrome’ I made reference to earlier. Inside all humans delude ourselves that we remain unaffected by the ravages of time and find nothing paradoxical in observing everything else around us succumbing to them day-by-day.

There’s nothing wrong with this perception.

One could argue that it’s the fount of all the vaulting ambition and quest for adventure that has made Man the master of the planet and still maintains the momentum of advancing science and indeed developments in every sphere of human activity.

And then – as has been said before – some mornings we all get a stark ‘reality check’ when we notice that the face staring back at us in the bathroom shaving mirror is in fact an interloper geriatric who has somehow turned up.

Why am I blogging about such sobering things today?

Simply because of there being an unusually large number of ‘reunions’, nostalgic anniversaries and appearances by former greats on what the sort of as mainstream television programmes that in their heyday they would never have dreamed of gracing.

Here are two recent examples:

Des O’Connor, Cliff Richard, Tommy Steele and Jimmy Tarbuck – as spotted in a report by Alisha Rouse, showbiz reporter, that appeared yesterday upon the website of the – DAILY MAIL

Roger Daltrey, lead singer in The Who, who has an autobiography to market, appearing upon BBC One’s The One Show, at 7.00pm last night, courtesy of Daily Motion – THE ONE SHOW (EXTRACT)

I cannot help but remark in passing that to see such giants as they are now, in their relative dotage – especially when I haven’t seen much of them recently and therefore in my mind’s eye still think of them as being in their (at worst) forties or early fifties.

A different aspect:

There’s no doubt that the modern age of the internet and the phenomenon of social media has prompted a complete re-think of how the stars of today communicate with their fans and the public generally.

You’ll have to forgive me revealing my age when I say that I felt the olden days – when stars were remote and it was almost a case of “You hadn’t really arrived until you were so big and important that you didn’t have to prostitute yourself by going out into the world and seeking publicity …”

Only those desperately clawing their way up in their careers did that. The B-listers, or maybe the C-listers.

No really big star did interviews – or at least rarely bothered to do them. Their remoteness added to their lustre and the impression that they were above such mere trivial things. And so, whenever they eventually did do (say) a TV interview, it was a major, major event.

These days things have completely switched around. The A-lister stars are now out there Tweeting, Instagramming and What’s Apping with the rest of us [well, not me obviously – I’m an oldie].

They’re so approachable, it’s boring.

It’s the reason these days I am so rarely seen in public and – when I am – never agree to sign autographs or pose for selfies.

I just want to be remembered as I remember myself.