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Getting old is a new grey area
WHILE not considering myself over the hill, it could be argued that Tunners is scrambling, with no little difficulty, up the metaphorical scree you find just below life’s summit.
I don’t worry about getting old, but receiving notification that I’m entitled to claim the winter fuel allowance this year has certainly concentrated the mind. In particular there’s a slight feeling of guilt that I plan to accept the government dosh even though I’m still working. But there’s more: I’ve also succumbed to the early stages of dotage and applied for the free bus pass to which I am also entitled.
The slippery slope to old age actually began last year when I took possession of my hearing aids.
Yes, plural is correct.
I need two of the blighters. They sit on my lugs like two mini ghetto blasters.
Mind you, they’ll soon become less noticable.
Ears, it seems, grow ever bigger the older you get.
Spectacles are another reminder of advancing age.
I now need four pairs - for small print, computer work, TV watching and driving.
You’d think all the above would be enough of a hint that old age is very much on the horizon without any further evidence needed.
Well, you’re wrong.
I have, in a fit of something one might call vanity, decided to sprout a bit of the old facial hair. It’s many years since I last sported a beard and I thought it would be good to see if a new hirsute Tunners would cut a distinguished figure.
What a shock I’ve had! While my hair is generally, though not exclusively, mousey my new beard appears to be coming through in places like snow.
I’ll persevere for the time being, of course. It would be an act of cowardice to reach for the razor before knowing the true extent of my silver growth. At the very least I’ll probably look more grandfatherly.
And with six grandchildren now in the Tunners stable that might not be a bad thing.