Age Has Conquered My Knees

Salutations to you all…

It is with a weary heart and tired thighs that I write these words. My age has crept up on me. I know this for a fact and I will include several examples of why this is so over the next 40,000 well constructed and correct gramatically paragraphs.

Firstly: The other day I began talking about my 40th birthday. Due to the fact there are a group of us who will be turning 40 around about the same time we started discussing the merits of holding some kind of combined party. Ok, fair enough. You would probably save money on venue hire. That is a sensible option for more mature types.

Secondly: Every time I crouch down to pick something up my knees crack like a pair of over-excited starter’s pistols. One goes, quickly followed my the other. It’s like a false start at the olympics but without the endemic steroid abuse.

Thirdly: I’ve begun sounding and acting like my dad. I seem to be constantly grappling with waves of uncontrollable stubbornness. I now have a couple of sayings that make absolutely no sense, yet I tend to say them anyway. Repeatedly. I sometimes tell the same story three times in one conversation. Back in my day kids never sounded like their fathers.

Despite these knee and parental issues, age is helping me to enjoy myself more.

I’m now far less concerned about what people think of me. I remember in my teens and 20s, it seemed that was all I did was think about what people were thinking about me. I look back on those years of self doubt now and laugh. The older and wiser me doesn’t care what that person over there thinks of the way I eat a peanut, or what that person on the other side thinks about the kind of beer I’m drinking. I sometimes feel like yelling from the rooftops, “I don’t care what you think! I am my own man!! You can’t make me do or think anything!!!” I don’t, of course. What would people think?

It is also pleasing to know that, being a male, and having gone to an all boys secondary school for some three years, I am still made to giggle by someone breaking wind. I am still tittilated by a joke or comment regarding a person or persons toileting habits. So confident am I that others share my fascination with this type of jocularity, I have tagged this page with the terms: bum, poo, wee, and lesbian, in order that I might increase my blog stats 10-fold. My body may have graduated primary school in the early 80s, but my mind didn’t (I promise to have stats to prove my hypothesis in the coming week).

Age need not cause you to become maudline. Embrace it. Feel free to express yourself – just watch the knees and other such joints in time of activity.

Enjoy the rest of your evening.

Boon x


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