Last week I announced that this year brings up my 50th birthday.
Despite believing that my ramblings were entertaining, and even occasionally informative, this revelation has led to more comments than I have ever had previously.
I asked for suggestions on how to celebrate, and have been amazed at the reaction this has brought.
Not in respect of any such suggestions but the fact that so many people have taken this as a cue to comment on whether, or not, I look my age.
One or two so-called friends have stated that they cannot believe that I’m 50 this year, proclaiming that they were sure that I had reached that milestone many years ago. Nice!
Others have been much more complimentary.
One gentleman in the Park Hotel, Lancaster, said that he had read my piece and could not believe I was over 35.
I was just about to buy him a drink when I was told by the bar staff, without a hint of sarcasm, that it was obvious to everybody that he had already had too much to drink.
I had a lovely discussion with one of the ladies on the tills at Sainsbury’s who is 50 herself next year and hoping to go to New York. (I promised to drop that in for her husband’s benefit.)
She felt that I had been extremely brave to declare my age in the local paper.
Perhaps that’s a gender thing as I don’t think that many men are too bothered about what age they are.
I know that’s the case as far as I’m concerned.
That said, I was none too impressed when a crew of scaffolders passed in their lorry whilst I was waiting to cross at the traffic lights near to the Magistrates Court and shouted out “Hawaii.”
I was slightly perplexed then I realised they were referring to the 70’s TV programme Hawaii 5 0.
Quite clever these scaffolders aren’t they?