Christmas - Champion Newspapers

20 • Visit us @ www.ChampNews.com WK The Champion • Wednesday 28 November 2012
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Unit 3, No33, Greenhey Place,
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01695 51873 / 07710 892354
1114452
Am I getting old?
I FIRST thought about
getting old on my 30th
birthday. I don’t know why, I
just did.
And I haven’t really
thought about it that much
since. In fact, the only time it
really has impinged itself on
me was when I got my ‘bus
pass’ – and that was a
positive thought. Good–oh I
thought. I can get on the
buses (and happily on
Merseyside, trains too) for
free.
All that kind of changed in
the last couple of days
though. By the time you read
this, I will have celebrated
another annual milestone in
my existence, though I doubt
I’ll be feeling more than a
single day older than the day
before, if you get my drift.
But over the course of just
two days, just before my
birthday, two separate
people seemed to have joined
forces to hammer home my
mortality.
First off, I was enjoying a
quiet hour or two in a local
hostelry with my brother and
two friends. George, my bro,
said it would perhaps be a
good idea to spend Christmas
afloat on our boat in Norfolk:
“Sooner rather than later,
before we get too old to do
it.”
Up ‘till then, I’d never even
given this aspect of things
any thought whatever – and
it was a thought I didn’t like.
I mean – there really aren’t
that many things I cannot do
now that I could 36 or so
years ago when I first thought
about getting old.
I mean, I realise I couldn’t
run around a football pitch
for 90 minutes – but whether
I ever could might be open to
question, and in any case I
have rarely felt the urge so to
do. More practically, I know I
can still make a quick dash
for a bus or set out without
pause for thought on a
five–mile walk with Tina (my
eponymous dog).
Incidentally, the various
aches and pains I do suffer
from, I put down to
rheumatism. When I was a
kid, all ‘old’ folk had
rheumatics – now no–one
seems to; everyone and his
dog (but not Tina) has
arthritis. Since I have never
visited my small aches on a
doctor, I’ll be awkward and
stick to rheumatism.
Anyway, I’d just about
stopped thinking about
getting too old, ever, to
celebrate Christmas on the
boat, when I had a
conversation with a bloke
I’ve known for some time
and always regarded as just
another man (and no insult
intended) – not particularly
young is what I mean.
I told him I had to keep our
talk fairly short because I had
to nip home, have my
evening meal, and be out of
the house again quick–sticks
to talk to someone from the
Maghull Community
Association about a possible
mini–feature on the work the
MCA does in the community.
And I mentioned that my
association with the MCA
goes well back – as it does. I
said I remembered going
along to a local pub for an
initial meeting of people
thinking of forming this now
well–known Maghull club as
a young reporter.
Actually I remember the
evening very well indeed
because one of the blokes
there had recently won a
Gold Medal for his
home–brew at the Liverpool
Show and we retired later to
his house to try it for
ourselves. I think it was very
good (good enough to dim
my memory of going home
anyway!).
I was trying to recall exactly
when that must have been
and reckoned it was probably
around 1965/6.
And this so–called friend
said happily: “I wouldn’t
know. I wasn’t even born
then.”
I mean – here was a chap
I’ve known and talked to for
quite some time, who is so
young he wasn’t even born
when I was roughly a third of
the age I am now!
Now that IS frightening.
1114708