Dear Lord…how did this happen? 60…wtf?
Some say it is a blessing to reach this age, others disagree. I haven’t formed an opinion yet as I am still a young ‘un in this role. I have had a few senior moments this week but I will not let that dampen my spirits.
The first indication of my ailing brain came when I was feeding my horses their evening carrot treats. Luna got a big carrot and he was struggling to break it in two, but wouldn’t release his hold on it so I could help him. He was determined to keep that carrot in his mouth, though it was so big he had to roll it from cheek to cheek trying to bite it in smaller pieces. Whilst doing the balancing act in his mouth, he was dribbling carrot and spit all over the front of the stable. I bent down to retrieve the bigger pieces of carrot, not thinking about what was falling on my head whilst doing so. The bits were large enough to be offered, by hand, to him again. I left shortly thereafter.
Driving from the stables I made my way home, dogs in the back of the car and Stinky on my lap as per usual. I stopped at the end of the gravel road, indicated that I was going to turn right, but as I did so, I must have cocked my head to the right. With that, I felt something fall on my back. Not the best thing to happen whilst driving. I slammed on brakes, flung open my door, and jumped out screaming and dusting my head in the most unladylike manner. Whilst performing my rain dance and nearly knocking myself senseless, a piece of carrot fell at my feet. Fuck. Thanks, Luna.
Sometimes I wonder what my neighbors think about me. To be honest, my dogs all sat watching me like this was an everyday occurrence. This gives me room for thought… how often do I act like a loon? Often enough, it seems, as my dogs have become desensitized to my antics. That night in the shower, I was washing bright orange carrot from my hair, watching it swirl down the drain.
My last day of 59 was spent in the company of my husband and my schoolfriend from primary school. I worked out that we had been friends since 1974, that makes our friendship 50 years old. That is half a century of friendship…how?
We had many adventures together, riding our bicycles through the dusty streets of the mining town we lived in with our ponytails flying in the wind.Little did we know of each others sad family lives which only came to light when we started sharing those confidences as adults. When we were on our bicycles we were without troubles and we could conquer the world. We survived our tumultuous childhood and became parents ourselves doing our best not to become carbon copies of the parenting we grew up with. In her last days my mom took my hand and said:’ I might have made a lot of mistakes but believe me when I say I did the best I could.” Those words stick by me. When we know better we do better and although adulthood is not always plain sailing I think Celeste and I haven’t done too bad.
Monday 8 January started like any other day. Christopher and the dogs tried to serenade me but he doesn’t have the knack to get the dogs going. Face timing with the kids brought smiles to our morning and as I had decided on doing a spur of the moment party later the afternoon on the plot, I had to start thinking about a cake. Nothing fancy, just a few of my crazy friends invited for gin and cake but it turned out to be a rather splendid evening.
As Celeste put it:’What a lovely group of people. Everybody that came really wanted to be there.” I couldn’t have said it any better. We drank gin out of my Royal Albert tea cup collections, ate cake and laughed a lot. People gave me the most thoughtful gifts even though I told them not to worry about anything in that department as it was Januworry and nobody had money. Yet they still arrived bearing pressies.
We watched the sun go down in the company of the farm animals, laughed a lot and made my first day of being 60 a hard act to follow. Christopher was meeting us at our favourite restaurant, Encore, for supper and we had to make haste to get there on time. As it was we were late and the old man was standing outside under a tree when we arrived. Supper was a great affair as I got the cocktail menu mixed up and ordered a Fish Bowl instead of a Tsunami. A Fish Bowl arrived intended for more than one person which made us giggle. Unfortunately most of the contents were left untouched by the time we left. I admitted defeat and swore to return with a possy of partygoers to give it another try.
Turning 60 wasn’t so bad after all. Its the gift that came after that that gave me pause for thought.
Two days later I got a stomach bug and spent my day 3 & 4 in the bathroom. Great. Other people win prizes and money, I get the shits.
By Friday I felt a little more human but my mood was still in the gutter. Driving home from the shops I saw a Hadida on the side of the road, sitting on the tar, not moving. I had just driven past a jogger and the person, although still quite a way off, was making her way towards me steadily. I had seen the Hadida when I went to the shops and now it was still sitting in the same place. This concerned me as it was going to be hit by a car. Still not feeling too great and rater grumpy I stopped my car, put the hazards on and started walking towards the bird. I was approaching the bird from the south and the runner was coming in from the north. I quickened my pace to get to the bird first and as I got near it I stomped my CROCS and yelled:” What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The bird flew up but the runner thought I was going to attack her and she flew to the other side of the road screaming:”NOTHING!!!!” her little legs working overtime to get away from me. What could I do to rectify the situation? Nothing. It was bad enough already. I just let it be. I don’t think she is going to be running that route in a hurry again. I would have like to be a fly on her wall that evening as she shared her experience with her family though.
Animals. They are going to be the death of me.
So, for the ten days between the 8 and 18 January I am the older woman and the cougar in the family. My husband doesn’t let this opportunity pass and gives me hell. He found the purple shampoo I bought to enhance my grey hair, held it up exuberantly and said: “In training now with purple rinse Yvette?”. Every waking moment is spent teasing me about being the “adult” in the relationship. It’s ok. I am counting down the days to his 60th. Then we are both senior citizens and eligible for discounted rates on a Wednesday at the chain stores. Ageing has its merits even if you have to look for them.
I am determined not to let the old in. My body might be changing and I might not be able to do all the things I did when I was younger but I refuse to allow my age to determine who I am.
“You don’t stop laughing because you grow old. You grow old because you stop laughing.” — Michael Pritchard
This year our 60th gift to each other is to spend Christmas 2024 with our children in New Zealand with a hopeful visit to Briony and the Robinson family thrown in as well. Memories are held in high regard in our family, the Robinson family have added to those memories, bringing loads of fun times and many family holidays to this party we call life. We would love have the opportunity to make many more with them in the years to come. It is a real privilege to be included in their lives, one which we don’t take for granted.
In the interim I will continue wearing CROCS, driving my Goanywherevehicle and sharing the delights of my fur family with you. This is the year I am going to ride Luna even if it is at a walk and getting on his back with a stepladder. The end.
Brace yourselves.
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
Jenny Joseph
I love the part about learning to spit…
