These days I think a lot about getting old. Probably because of the aches and pains as well as the mirror, of course -- or of 'curse' as I just had to correct! Every night of late I've had a devil of a time getting to sleep as I have an annoying and persistent pain in my hip -- an old skiing accident catching up with me I believe. Ibuprofen helps, but nevertheless I wait for the pain before succumbing to the relief the tablets bring.
Last month I fell in the street -- slipped on black ice and then couldn't get up on my own because I couldn't get a footing. A man and a woman saw my feeble attempts to get up and managed to lift me up without too much ado. Looking back on the incident I wonder if they saw what I think of as 'me' needing assistance or if they would themselves decribe helping an 'old dear'. This expression, 'old dear' has always seemed rather charmingly British to me and in my mind I very distinctly picture the little white haired lady Alec Guinness so menancingly tried to murder in The Ladykillers. Not that I have white hair -- at least it's not on show. In fact if I have any I don't know how much or how little! All I know for sure is that when I went to the movies last week to see The Kings Speech the kiddo selling tickets sold me a 'seniors' ticket without even asking!!!
It's enough to make you want to take out your OAP bus pass and huff along home.