An in-between age

Thursday 16th August 2012

62 IS a difficult age: neither here nor there; unremarkable, unheralded and having to wait another five before returning to one’s prime.

62: probably the dullest number invented by man: about as exciting as a blurred photograph of a member of the royal family, cavorting naked in a luxury hotel in Las Vegas.

62: the international dialling code for Indonesia and the atomic number of samarium, a rare earth metal with a boiling point of 1794 °C, making it the third most volatile lanthanide after ytterbium and europium.

Wikipedia also notes that both 62 BC and 62 AD were notable only for nothing noteworthy having happened.

62: sitting there, peering over your shoulder from its cobwebbed corner, like the alien in John Carpenter’s Dark Star, both mocking and menacing, even if only a beach-ball with claws.

This being the 500th entry in this journal, I should be celebrating. I had a wonderful birthday and enjoyed a few days away, being looked after and entertained by daughters and granddaughters.

Moreover, a friend’s hacksaw has finally released the lock round the bike in the shed. It’s now gone to a good home, making the space I need to start shifting some things into and others out of the attic, where I am intending to hibernate, starting next month.

The weather has been warmer for several days and I’m in my shorts – even if, as a friend pointed out today – they don’t look right with the cardigan.

The list of jobs on the notepad on my desk is down to a manageable five. It needs to get above eight before I admit to losing control.

All in all then, no reason to complain about anything: except my back.

I’ve twisted a muscle: maybe lifting a sturdy toddler; or hurrying up two steps at once on hearing the train pull in; or sleeping uncomfortably on the coach home. I should apply an ice-pack, but have lost the will to open the fridge.

I put it down to being 62. Time to enrol on a course at the University of the Third Age.

Though not just yet. I think I’ll take a gap year first.








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One Response to An in-between age

  1. Don’t write anything too scary…. I’m fearful of 46 looming large…. and am relying on people like you to lead the way into “maturity” (I still don’t think I’m a proper grown up) with a route map; compass and words of encouragement….. and as for 62 that’s merely days crossed off on the calendar… in dog years you’d be 434 and in you’re heart you still on 25 (in “heart years” that makes you five years older than me…….) Nx

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