Well, this
is my last post as a thirty-something; nothing humorous about that I’m afraid.
I could go on about my impending doom, another decade closer to receiving my
bus pass….no nothing funny at all there.
What does my 40s hold for me I try not to wonder, not at all
amusing. “just another day,” the worried
say to hide their worry, not in the least bit comical. As a kid I used to work
out how old I would be in the intriguing year 2000, wow, 27; imagine being that
old! Well now, oh how I wish I was 27; simply not witty. Old people say, “ah,
40, you are but a spring chicken,” but I know that’s not true, it’s just no
hilarious comment at all. Will I lose my “funny,” Because right now I don’t
know where it’s gone? Grumpy old whinger, that is the life I look forward too
now……
Do I have to
buy some hard wearing, chequered slippers? Is it law that I carry a purple
cushion and a box of man-size hankies on the parcel shelf of my car? Is it
mandatory that I spend my days staring out of the window, muttering about how
anyone younger than me doesn’t know how easy they have it, that I fought
through a recession, through the oppressive Thatcher era for them? Is it
regulation now to walk really slowly down the path, taking up the entire width
so more agile youths cannot pass? I’m not sure if I’m ready yet, I want to
climb trees, I want to run and shout throwing my school books in the air,
listen to gangham style until I’m shouted at to turn it down. I’m not getting
past it am I?
I’m still
hip with the kids, am I not? I still know all the names of the Girls Aloud, I understand
what LOL means and I can quote Ant and Dec. No, not past it yet my friends,
tomorrow will be just another day and if you find anything remotely funny about
that you, my friend are too young, so bugger off, bloody kid and come back when
you when you know you’ve been born!
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