Accepting my old age with a sigh (From Bradford Telegraph and Argus)

Accepting my old age with a sigh

10:44am Thursday 19th August 2010 in Columnists

I have noticed over recent weeks that I have been sighing a great deal.

Not with sadness, you understand. This expelling of air is a totally involuntary action and seems to be linked with nothing more than having moved in some small way.

It’s as if I need to make a comment about how old I am starting to feel, but can’t find the words to fully express it, and so I sigh.

What made it slightly worse is that I have noticed that my dad does the very same thing, and has done so for some time.

Then, last week, while in the supermarket I overheard someone describe me as ‘that old man’.

They meant no ill by it, and I took into consideration that they were merely a teenager and thereby knew little about life.

I am just under 1,000 hours from my 50th birthday, so I really don’t want to be known as ‘that old man’ at this stage of my existence.

I asked my wife whether I deserved such a description, and she was supportive to a point, but reminded me that I am technically in my 50th year and about to start my 51st. Not being interested in technicalities, I ignored her comment.

Ignoring the fact that I was ignoring her, Mrs M went on to ask what description I would have liked them to use.

I thought for a moment and then conceded that I couldn’t find one that was both accurate and didn’t cause me offence.

Describing me as ‘that middle-aged guy’ might have been truer, but it still would have marked me as older than I want to be. In truth, the word old, from the teenager’s perspective, was accurate.

I suppose it’s mildly better than ‘that fat guy’.

I mistakenly said that last sentence out loud to my wife and she chuckled as she pointed out that I was taking comfort in grading the possible adjectives.

She was right; I was performing mental gymnastics trying to work out whether it was better to be called balding than old.

I made the mistake of asking Mrs M what words she would find acceptable about herself.

This was not a bad thing in itself, because it led to her asking the following question: ‘How would you describe me?’ “A beautiful lady”, I said, hoping that would put an end to it.

“Lady?” she said, sounding a little disappointed “that makes me sound ancient”.

“Well, you are married to an old man,” I replied.

Then, as if we couldn’t find any more words, my wife and I sighed at the very same moment.