Getting Older

I get out of bed more slowly than I used to because of my sore back. My left knee hurts every time I play tennis. My shoulder hurts every time I play golf. I've just had to get a stronger paid of glasses. My teeth are starting to crumble. In the evenings I sit and watch TV because I have no energy to do anything else. Jobs around the house remain undone.

I guess it is called old age.

On Friday we were invited to a function in Piccadilly by the organisers of Chateau Mystique, an upmarket weekend break for affluent gay men. I was the oldest person there.

Last week in Malaga I watched groups of people in bars and restaurants having a good time and regretted the fact that my Spanish was not good enough to start a conversation with any of them. But in reality, even if my Spanish was fluent, they would not have wanted me to speak to them because I am 30 years older than most of them.

More signs of old age.

Then last night, I was invited to a quiz night in a church in Potters Bar. Not only did our team win, but looking around I realised that almost everyone there was older than I am. Yes, older.

Thank God, literally, for the Church of England. The only place these days where I can still feel young!