Things I hate about getting old

Getting old sucks.  It really does.  People who say ‘Age is just a number’ are talking bollocks.  It’s a great big number.  And there’s a reason for it.  Physical and mental things that happen as your body slowly deteriorates before your very failing eyes. I try to search for the positives: experience and wisdom, kids flown the nest, retirement on the horizon, financial freedom?  Well OK so none of those actually apply but you get the drift.

I think this has hit home this week more than ever as my youngest has graduated and just landed her first job.  Another chapter closes in the book of life.  Which means I might well be approaching the epilogue!


So on that cheery note, here’s a list of things that are really shite about getting old.

  • You make ‘old people’ noises when you sit down, stand up, bend over, roll over, walk.  It’s mainly because something that you didn’t know you had now seems to ache or hurt. Which means another trip to the doctors.  Whatever it is, it’s probably fatal.
  • Your tolerance for alcohol is greatly diminished.  Sniff a cork and I’m anyone’s.  Not that anyone wants me.  Apart from the tax man.
  • Your toenails seem to get thicker while your fingernails and hair gets thinner!  I know this because the beauty therapist now reaches for the angle grinder when I go in for a pedicure.
  • You forget that you’re now not remotely attractive to the opposite sex.  Well not the ones in your 18 year old mind.  I’ve often looked a young lad in the street and thought ‘Oh he’s cute’!  Then I realise he’s only about 16 and actually it’s the balding, portly granddad he’s helping across the road who is more likely in my permitted age range.  I now berate myself for such thoughts and thank the Lord I’ve yet again avoided a prison sentence.
  • No one wants to have sex with you except drunk people.  Or someone that’s in to necrophilia.
  • Your pubic hair turns grey.  Although my husband will argue they’re just cobwebs.
  • Your bladder has a mind of it’s own. Muscles that were once toned are now like some worn knicker elastic.  The pelvic floor retired shortly after the birth of child 2 over 20 years ago. I dare not cough, sneeze or laugh for fear of leakage. Which subsequently rules out any social interaction of any kind.
  • You really do think you’re pretty cool for your age but your kids just think you’re an embarrassing idiot.  Personally I see nothing wrong with saying ‘lolz’ but apparently it’s wrong on many many levels.
  • You realise that planning ahead is pretty pointless as there isn’t much ‘ahead’ left!  It’s all ‘behind’.  30 more summers if I’m lucky. God that’s depressing.  Thank God for sherry!
  • You watch The Antiques Road Show.  Or record it if you’re busy darning some socks.  Obviously when I say ‘record’ I mean ‘download’.  Hashtag oldbag
  • The clothes you think will look great on you just don’t.  So often I see something in a magazine and think that would really suit me.  The person I imagine in the outfit is normally slim with long legs.  I haven’t been slim or had long legs since I was a gangly 11 year old which is about when I stopped growing upwards and started growing sideways.
  • You turn into your parents.  I find myself telling my kids to make sure they eat before they leave for work/wear weather-appropriate clothing etc. I also find myself saying things like – ‘An apple a day keeps the doctor away’ or ‘In my day…..’  My children are adults!  They’re starting to think I’m from another era, not even covered in their history lessons!
  • You become obsessed with the weather.  Worrying endlessly that if you go out, you might be too hot, too cold or get wet.  You end up covering all eventualities by packing a small case with an umbrella, rain mac (one that folds to a handy pocket size), cardigan, sun hat and sun cream just to go to Tesco.  It’s suddenly become your main topic of conversation. You’re a weather bore.   Did I tell you about the great storm of 1987?  Or the heatwave of 1976?  Who cares!
  • It takes a lot longer to fill in a form.  Mainly scrolling down the drop down age menu to find that you don’t even come into a bracket.  It’s just 50+ which means ‘actually we don’t really give a shit’.
  • You look forward to a dull evening.  Although last night we went a bit mad and watched all six episodes of Doc Martin.  In one sitting.  Practically Netflix and chill!

But,  on the plus side, pretending to be deaf does have it’s advantages.  And somewhere buried deep in this apathy is a young spirit that, given half a glass of Lambrusco and a pair of leg warmers, might just make those next 30 summers the best ever.

So long as it’s not too hot.












No Sex Please I’m Over 40

I’m wondering at what point did I stop waking up in the morning thinking ‘Mmmm, sex!!’ and start thinking ‘Mmmm, bins?’  At what point did I stop wanting to rip all his clothes off and start telling him to put on a vest!!  Or an extra jumper.  Or a balaclava!  OK this is just my humble grumblings but I pretty sure, somewhere been giving birth and 40, somebody stole
my sex drive!  And suddenly it’s all  become such a hassle. Spontaneity is just a long word.  Lust is lost.  And passion is just a type of exotic fruit. And the seeds get stuck in your teeth!

So, rather than succumbing to this Miss Jean Brodie situation, I thought I’d try and rekindle the spontaneity, lust and passion that has gradually waned over the years and try and unearth that sex kitten I one was.  Surely it’s not gone forever.  Surely there’s a way to put the xxxx  back into sex?  And in such situations, there really is only one place to start. 
Cosmopolitan’s Top 10 Tips For An Amazing Sex Life.

1. Randy Rub-a-Dub-Dub
Before you make love, take a bath together. Prepare the bathroom 

beautifully beforehand with fluffy towels and candles. Then put two 
drops of patchouli oil, three drops of sandalwood oil, and three drops 
of lavender oil into your bathwater. 

You see the trouble with this one is that, we’ve got a bit of a water problem 
upstairs.  So to get a nice hot bath, you need to boil kettles and pans.  
So by the time I’ve done all that, the candles would have gone out and the 
oil will be floating to the top and will look like some sort of failed soup.  And 
he’ll have fallen asleep in the chair by then.  Next …..

2. Pocketful of Pleasure
When he’s least expecting it, tell your man you need some change. 

Then stick your hand in his pocket and start rubbing his penis through 
the fabric, pretending that you’re really digging around for that coinage 
you need.

Unfortunately, I actually do need some change.  For the Tesco’s trolley.  
And anyway, as he’s got little legs, the pocket tends to be nearer his knees.  
Since when was knee-prodding erotic? Guess that’s not going to work either.

3. Heavenly Heartbeat
To feel more connected in bed, tune into each other’s heart rate. 
Lay your hand on his chest, and have him do the same. You might 
be surprised how easily you can become synchronized.  

Potentially dangerous.  You see he has mild hypertension and a slightly 
higher heart rate so I could end up out of breath without doing anything. 
I might as well do the hoovering!!!

4. Putting on the Ritz
Try re-creating that away-from-home atmosphere in your own bedroom. 

First, purge your room of any family photos or office equipment. Then 
buy sheets with the highest threads-per-inch count you can find 
which feel super silky to the touch without the cheesiness of satin. 
Invest in some thick, fluffy robes to lounge around in. And for the 
ultimate hotel-style indulgence, set up a tray of champagne and finger 
foods to savor after you make love

Well I recently bought a decent fitted sheet in Matalan.  And some really
 nice tea towels. Buggered if I’m buying new fluffy robes.  The egg-stained 
West Ham I bought him two Christmases ago washes up a treat.  Mind 
you, I’m not a big fan of champagne.  Last time I had one too many, I was 
so ill, I ended up in A&E.  It wasn’t entirely my fault.  I think the canapes 
were off.  And all this aside, I’ve roaming children who have a habit of 
wandering in our room to steal towels, face wipes and money at any time
 – day or night.  I’d hate for them to stumble upon a middle aged couple,
 wrestling in a threadbare robe, covered in mini sausage rolls.  Let’s move on.

5. Toy with Him
Stock up on some sex toys. Velvet-lined handcuffs can be exciting, 

and they don’t hurt like the metal ones do. Silk blindfolds build a 
sense of suspense — which can be really titillating. And you can 
never go wrong with a vibrator. 

Now this sounds all well and good, but he’ll need his glasses to tie any 
thing, or unlock anything.  He’s got 7 pairs. Can’t find any of them.  By the 
time he finds them, the blood will have probably been cut off and I’d be in 
serious danger of losing both hands.  Anyway, I’m no fan of toys.  I had a
vibrator once.  Due to lack of use, the battery leaked so I threw it away. 
The following morning it was on the pavement as some kindly fox had 
decided to drag my bin bag across the drive and scatter the contents for 
all to see.  I’m not sure what was more embarrassing.  The leaky vibrator 
or the empty family KFC bucket.

6. Bare Boogie
You don’t have to have a model-perfect body to have maximum fun 

in the bedroom. Look at yourself naked in a full-length mirror for 
five minutes a day and focus on what you love about your body. 
If this feels awkward, turn on some music and dance naked with 
your mirror image. By getting used to your unique shape, you’ll 
gain confidence that will naturally spill over into your sex life 
and make you twice as enticing to your guy. 

OK so I tried this.  And  you know what?  There is NOTHING I love about 

my body.  I’m grateful that’s it’s all there and it is in good working order, 
but there’s far too much of it.  Most of it shouldn’t even be there.  
Dancing naked with my mirror image would be like a night out at a disco 
with Dawn French.  And there’s every chance aforementioned children 
will barge in.  Seeing their mother boogie-ing butt-naked to Saturday 
Night Fever might well see them opting for voluntary adoption!

7. Sultry Slo-Mo
To surprise him and build anticipation, try doing the same things 

you always do in the bedroom, but slow down to one-fourth of 
your normal speed. You and your guy will have time to really bond.

This will just result in one of us nodding off.  Plus I’ll start noticing the 
dust on the skirting board, or the light fitting.  Mind you, I suppose I 
could finish that book …..

8. Finger-Food Foreplay
Have a romantic dinner without utensils so you can feed each 

other. There’s something sensual about placing food in your 
partner’s mouth. It’s such fun — especially when you serve 
stuff that’s not supposed to be eaten with your hands, like s
alads or pasta. After a meal like this, serve yourself for dessert. 

What’s erotic about this?  OK, strawberries and cream but salads 

and pasta?  Shovelling handfuls of spag bol and lettuce into his 
gob does not sound like fun to me.  It’s going to be messy and guess 
who’ll have to clear it all up and try and get the tomato stains off the 
cream tablecloth!  Yes me!  Give it a few years, I’ll probably have to 
spoon feed him anyway.  So I’ll be putting that off for as long as possible!  

9. The next time you go out with your man, wear your sexiest outfit. 
Go ahead — flirt with strangers and turn some heads. Tease. 
Once you return home from your diva-date, you won’t be able t
o keep your hands off each other

I had a bad experience flirting with a stranger.  It was at a friend’s wedding 
reception. Turns out he was the groom.  Next?

10. Grab and Go
If you’re turned on at an inopportune time, act on your feelings. 

Although it feels a little bit naughty, a quickie will help you stay 
faithful.  Quickies allow you to experience all of the having-an-affair 
thrill with none of the cheating. 

Not a good idea. After any physical exertion, I need to sleep.  And 

there’s too much preparation to be done before bed.  He’s got a selection 
of tablets and piles and I have an epic skin care regime. It’s not unheard 
of that, by the time I’ve applied the final layers of anti ageing retinol plus 
snake serum lifting gel and the overnight hand moisturiser mitts, the alarm’s 
gone off!  Plus, due to various snoring and breathing malfunctions, he 
wears a gum shield and I wear a nose strip.  It’s like Joe Bugner 
trying to shag a sychronised swimmer.  

Hey ho.  I guess those bins won’t put themselves out.