It’s Sunday and I am feeling old. I am tired, having worked until the early hours yesterday, one knee that has been playing up for a couple of weeks is very painful and this morning I fell over on the pavement, re-spraining an ankle that has just mended from a bad twist a few months ago. My neck aches, I have a GP appointment this week that I am not looking forward to, I need a haircut, the dog was sick today, I am fretting about the US elections, worried about the world in general and need to plant my bulbs.
Yay! If I have all that to think about I must be alive!
I also have a roof over my head, I met a friend for coffee and chat on Friday, my son is home from Uni, my husband is cooking Sunday lunch, I am looking forward to my writing group on Wednesday, it has been a gloriously sunny day today, I bought two plant pots from the boot sale this morning for 50p and a very beautiful old Villeroy & Boch letter opener, also 50p, the buzzards have been calling overhead, I am warm and looking forward to sitting down this evening to watch a film with wine and a bar of chocolate.
If we look hard enough, we can normally find something to balance out the bad and even in the ugly there is usually something beautiful to be found. Although I am struggling to find anything redeemable about Donald Trump even though I can usually see something good deep down in anyone.
I wrote this poem very quickly after hearing a a father and son last night having a conversation about beer at our mobile bar. The son ordered a lager for himself and a stout for his father, the father said he would rather have a lager, the son retorted “I thought you were too old for lager”. It just made me smile.
In my youth I was guilty of this too, it is very easy to forget that the older generation were not just young once, but are still alive and kicking over fifty, sixty and older. I remember surprising my parents once with a visit, my Dad came down downstairs in his underpants and said my mum was in bed as she didn’t feel very well. It didn’t take long to realise what was going on, good for them. I keep a photo of my mum aged eighteen in my purse, it is very old and tatty but is such a brilliant reminder that everyone was young once, carefree, full of life and up to things the young think is only for their generation.
Is There Anybody There?
Is anybody there I cried, it’s me I’m on the other side,
I’ve tried and tried to push the door, I’ve pushed so hard my arms are sore.
Youth has run off with the key, he says this is where I’m meant to be
but I don’t think I like it here, wrinkled faces full of fear,
everything is very gloomy, even handsome Mr Clooney
is getting greyer by the year, please let me in it’s dark out here.
No, you stay put, you're getting old, always complaining of the cold,
got no money in your purse, don’t know where the pain is worse
in your knees or in your fingers, leaving funny smells that linger,
can’t do this can’t do that, your only friend the mangey cat
just as old and mean as you, and getting careless with his poo.
We don’t want to hear your woes, of hearing aids and fungal toes.
I think we’re scared if you come here, you’ll take our jobs and drink our beer,
can’t you stick to port and lemon, play bingo till you go to heaven,
wear comfy shoes and comfy slippers, eat hard boiled eggs and stinky kippers,
shampoo and set your thinning hair, get help to pull you out the chair,
watch your quiz shows on the tele, hide your flibby flabby belly
with stretchy waists and baggy clothes, plucking hairs from ears and nose.
Oh come on, we’re not that bad, were not all raving loony mad,
don’t you know its all the rage to be old and silver nowadays.
There is nothing that we cannot do, we have Macs and smart phones too,
we don’t just sit here gathering dust, waiting for our joints to rust.
We’re funny, clever, wise and arty, we still remember how to party
sex and drugs and rock and roll have been around for years you know.
We don’t just moan about the weather, we could have so much fun together,
so pass the key and let me in, it’s six o’clock and time for gin.Find the positive, love life, we only get one.
Wishing you all a lovely week ahead.
Love Lindsey x
A fun poem for Monday - Is there anybody there?