On getting older

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I am middle aged. I am in the middle of my life, the young foolish years are behind me, the more sensible, thoughtful years, lie before me.

Or so says convention but, you know what, I can’t say things like convention have ever bothered me all that much.

Don’t get me wrong, I am very conventional in all the nuances of the word. I live in a semi-detached house, in a cul-de-sac. I have a sensible car, I have a good job, I have Sky+ HD and many other trappings of middle age, middle class life. Oh dear, did I just say I was middle class?

Anyway, none of that is really what I was going to discuss. Instead I was going to muse on how my body and mind have changed in the past few years, through various factors, and how much I’m enjoying being me.

But that all sounds a bit twee and I very much doubt that it will be of much interest to anyone else, other than me (I do find myself endlessly fascinating, it’s true).

Suffice to say that I am noticing that I am aging. Not something I’d been hugely aware of in the past but then what young man ever is? Mostly I am realising that life goes on, regardless of what happens, something that you can really only get a feel of from life experience.

I say all this against the backdrop of yesterdays date. It was supposed to be a special day for our family, but things changed so instead I sit here and remind myself that, no matter how hard it is now, life goes on.

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