I have been thinking a lot just lately about getting old and more importantly when you realize its happened to you. It’s odd that the first time I have really felt old is when I first saw my dad as an old man. Why is it that someone else changing in your eyes is enough to make you see yourself differently? Don’t get me wrong the old man might be close to drawing his pension but I have hardly started contributing to mine and yet realizing he was getting on in life made me see how much of mine has already passed.


There are the other usual indicators.

Discovering that the newest album you have in your collection is almost 10 years old.

Saying “kids today” and not laughing afterwards.

Noticing that your primary hair colour is now grey (though for me this has been the case from a young age).

Not being able to drink until 5am and still get to work for 9am. (not that this ever stops me from trying)

Being beaten on Mario cart by someone less than half your age.

Actually having to consider what you eat (again not that I really do most of the time)

Thinking about exercise as something you really should do as opposed to something fun that you like to do


Now all this might seem like a moan about getting old but to be honest I don’t care. Being young really wasn’t that great was it?


Being a spotty awkward teenager unable to speak to girls. Thinking that being grounded was the end of the world. Knowing beyond all doubt and despite what people tell you that you are madly in love with the girl next door and that it will last forever. Now why would anyone miss that?


Still I do miss the days when I could go out for a night on the town and not think about the bills that need paid or how I will pay for food till the end of the month. Eating beans on toast for 26 days and Chinese for the other 5.


Perhaps even more concerning is seeing the reflection of my father when I look in the mirror. The saving grace of this one is that it’s not in a I look a like kind of way, I am not the wrong side of 60 sporting a pony tail and beard and looking more than a little like a hippie (sorry dad, not that’ll you’ll ever read this). I remember many times having a go at the old man for his complaining in restaurants, his stubbornness and his inability to concede a point when he feels he is right. Yep, unbiased hat on and I check all of those boxes and do so with style. So do we all turn into are parents? do we take an equal amount from each? I think for me I am a fairly equal split of my folks and the traits I have taken from them I am quite glad I have.


Ahhhhhh the joy’s of getting old, just in case you were wondering I am only………………………………………… NAH now where would the fun in that be?