Saturday 12 October 2013


It's a point of curiosity to me whether the word should be 'drawbacks' or 'drawsback'. What do you think? In consequence of the recent unbelievable birthday, I have been rather forced to consider them wherever you put the 's'. Take arthritis. Stiff hands cause inevitable embarrassment in public lavatories. Why? One can't turn the locking device is why. Having been interupted in flagrante derilicto on occasion, I now prop my stick against the probably -not- properly-locked-door. It falls with an alarming clatter and a multitude of apologies. Following the same train of thought, it is a nightmare to give amnesty to the paper imprisoned in its cage with just its tail prodruding. If it has been put in there the wrong way round, that is with its tail hanging from its backside instead of from its tummy, there is just one solution: forget it. Arthritic fingers don't scrabble sufficiently well. As I've noted before, museums are viable only with a companion willing to push a wheelchair.  That is not so much because of the walking as the standing. One doesn't nearly shuffle off whatever because of an infection in the back and recover subsequently to stand still for more than a nano second. (Is that one word or two? There were'nt any nanoseconds when I was a girl. Or perhaps there were but we called them 'split')   In order to keep the engine operative a startling amount of medication is necessary.  It is humbling and gratifying that a satifactory fuel has been devised for me. The drawback is that it has side effects. To quantify: the bonny old thing you see bouncing around the Hospital being a volunteer is actually feeling rather nauseous. When a further fuel is aimed at pain control  the bit of me you can't see is bouncing around half asleep. Oh for the days when I walked 'one two, one two'  along the banks of the river Ure. (You know the one: it turns up in crosswords all the time) .And 'one two, 'one two' has to be recited quicker than it can be typed to get the feel. My work depended to a great extent on my memory. Mixing up and transposing the names of the siblings/spouses and so on of the people with whom I was working was definitely not good for business. It was right, therefore, that I stop when I did. But, where confusing was a professional drawback, the honing of my memory in all those years, impaired as it became, leaves me now with a great deal more recall than I deserve as I wait on the tarmac for the final departure.

No ankles, no waist, thin hair: what a lot has been left behind on this journey we call Life. In spite of the drawbacks, though, it does seem worth the bother to enjoy my huge amount of more than three score and ten. Well, to tell the truth, it is now actually four score. I know. You guessed. I can't have been blogging for five years and still be seventy five going on forty. I like the title, though, so I shan't be rebranding as 80 going on 45. I wonder what is ahead. I suppose some loss and more deterioration. But never mind the drawbacks. Pull up the drawbridge and let them drown. Nos da


Anonymous said...

Thank you again for some wonderful and humourous blogs. I hope to become as humourous when I get older. I believe it takes age and experience to see the world the way you are able to. It is a gift and example for my generation

Anonymous said...

A positive and optimistic report which encourages me as I follow the road to my "end". You are my satnav so keep up your guidance

Anonymous said...

I started at the very beginning Of you blog and have just reached this post.
I am so enjoying your writing, thank you for your wonderfully descriptions of old age. I am four years behind you, creaking mightily, but better to wear out than rust.
Kate in Australia