Getting old is easy

Getting old is easy. All you have to do is keep living.

Right now it seems there is a great divide between the young and the old. Resentment even. The young consider the older generation as responsible for all the ills in the world today. The truth is that the world has always had its difficult time. Every generation it seems went through a crisis or more. And I don't remember me blaming the previous generation for inventing nuclear bombs, or the Cold War, or the Iron Curtain, or the Berlin Wall, or those dreary small screen black and white TVs.

Anyway, what exactly is old? When I was young I considered anyone over 35 as being old. But is that so? Or is it over 40, or 50, 60 or more?

There's some advantage to growing old, and, let's call it retired to give a focus on what age we're talking about.

For a start, once you're old you can not care any more. I'm quite an expert at it. I find I care less about more and more things every day. In fact I consider myself a professor in non-caring. I should run courses and give out diplomas in non-caring.

Also, once you're old you can behave any way you like, within reasons, and people will think you're eccentric. For example, you can wear tatty clothes and a pullover with a hole in it and no one seems to mind, as long as it's clean of course. Men can pull up their trousers all the way to their nipples and hold it in place with a tight belt as well as braces and it's acceptable. I have a friend who dresses just like that with a jacket with those leather patches at the elbow. Never understood those patches in jackets myself. He always wears a brightly coloured tartan shirt, red, yellow or even orange. Trousers pulled up high revealing white socks and sandals. He has teeth like the Ten Commandments; all broken. And always with a pipe in mouth. Now that's not very modern or fashionable is it? I've not seen any one smoking a pipe for ages. But he does. I think he is a sex symbol for women who do not care.

Despite his age his brain is as sharp as a pin. But he acts eccentric as a way of giving the finger to the world. And why not? He deserves it and should be allowed his moment of joy rather than feeding on the daily diet of bad news they serve on TV these days.

He has bought a cell-phone which he hardly uses. He keeps it switched on in case his wife or grown-up children ring him, and also for emergencies. But he also has fun with it. I witnessed it.

On the bus one day he took out his cell phone and pretended to dial. Then he started talking not too loud but loud enough he could be heard. He said things like "I think we should buy as many shares in this Company as we can afford. They've invented a cure for excess hairs growing out of one's ears you know. The ointment can be used for other un-wanted hair too in delicate places. Buy me about £300,000 worth please."

You should have seen the faces of the other passengers thinking they were sharing the bus with a millionaire.

Unfortunately, half-way through his pretend conversation the cell-phone rang as someone called him. He did not lose his cool. Without batting an eye-lid he said to his pretend conversation, "I'll have to go now. I have another call coming in on my other line!" Then he pressed a button and answered the real call. Now that's cool don't you think?

And he says the funniest things without seeming to care. The other day we were at the supermarket. I help carry his shopping.

As we were at the check-out, a woman standing behind us in line as we were paying for our goods, started a conversation just to be friendly. She saw a bag of "Woof Woof" dog food, and asked him: "Do you have a dog?"

I know he has a small dog, but he replied, "No ... this is for me. I am on a dog diet. I probably should stop because the last time I did it I ended in Intensive Care in Hospital."

I was puzzled at his response, and she was intrigued and asked him to explain.

He said that essentially dog food is the perfect diet which is nutritionally complete. He puts some "Woof Woof" pellets in his pocket and whenever he is hungry he eats a few.

By this time everyone in the queue was listening attentively.

Horrified, she asked him if he ended up in Intensive Care because the dog food had poisoned him.

"No ..." he replied, "I just stepped off the curb to sniff a poodle's butt and a car hit me!"

I could not keep a straight face, but had to, to give credence to his story which he related as seriously as the occasion demanded.

He resents having to go to the doctors or nurses for regular check-ups. He knows it is for his own good, but he logically confides that going to the hospital reminds him that there is something wrong with him. He told me he particularly dislikes a matronly type of nurse which he had to visit on a regular basis to check his blood pressure. The visit, once a week, lasts about 15 minutes or so but it seems like a lifetime to him. She always has a friendly, but seemingly patronising comment to make. Like, "My my we are putting on weight aren't we? I think we should diet!"

He replied, "I'll dye mine pink, which colour will you dye yours?"

She did not understand his joke and tried to explain what a diet is.

On another occasion she mentioned the fact that his clothes, albeit clean, are not colour coordinated. A red tartan shirt does not go with green corduroy trousers apparently.

The following visit he smeared a little yoghurt on his shoulder. Just enough to be visible. When he entered her insulting room he apologised that his parrot had diarrhoea. She stupidly asked where was the parrot. He replied, "I've sent him home to get cleaned up and have a shower!"

So there you have it. If you consider yourself old, remember that you are not. You are just mature enough to know how not act mature and to have fun at the world's expense.

God bless you, whatever age you are.