Growing old benignly

There comes a time in life when you have to admit that you are not a youngster any more. And I don't mean those 'life' milestones such as learning to drive, going to the pub or having children. I'm talking about creaking joints, getting up in the night for a pee, needing reading glasses, wearing 'comfortable' rather than 'fashionable' clothing, not knowing how to operate technological gadgets, repeating yourself, and, of course, repeating yourself.

But above all, the one that gives the game away and tells you that, yes indeed, you are getting old, is becoming a member of the National Trust. Visiting their properties. And cooing over the flower beds - pointing out what grows well here but not in your garden - and don't those dahlias look lovely! Just like I did yesterday.

For all those of you who are in a similar position, please accept a few filler pictures of said flower beds (left). Taken whilst drinking tea, eating banana cake, and looking out for the nearest toilets... but let's look on the bright side - another day closer to stairlifts, incontinence pads and copious nasal hair!


Derek Faulkner said…
Aged 69 I've already achieved most of those milestones Steve and believe me, few turn out to be fun. I recall laughing my head off at a Billy Connolly sketch about how when you reach a certain age hair decides to suddenly pour out of your nose and ears. Not so funny when it happens to you and small, nail scissors become more important in the bathroom than your hair gel.
Steve Gale said…
Ha! Well put Derek... the ear and nose hair has started, but I wage a war on the little sods.
Unknown said…
Oh dear. I am 45 and have been a member of the NT for a good few years. I coo over their flower beds too!

It's expensive but the NT is worthwhile especially if you roam the country as they have some excellent gems.

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