And The Point Is...

You're only as old as you feel, they say. Age is just a number, they say. I know people in their seventies who haven't grown up and I know people in their twenties who seem to have been born straight into middle age with all the cares of the world on their shoulders'. Personally, I think I'm about 26. 

Last week, I went out with some good friends of mine. By pure fluke we started off in the pub where I used to hang out with my punk rocker buddies back in the 70s and were I had my first pint. The pub had hardly changed in the thirty years since I last darkened its doorstep and the memories came flooding back. After a while I went to the bar for another round and was just about to launch into my reminisces with the pretty, young barmaid when I managed to stop myself. It's the classic old man's mistake. On no planet in the known universe is a young girl interested in the ramblings of an old drunk talking about a time before she was born. I still think I'm 26 but clearly, if you can remember a time when you could get three pints for a quid this can't be the case.

I've had a go at growing old gracefully and acting my age but, when push comes to shove, I would rather be in the pub than the garden (unless it's a pub garden). I have tried to take finances and wearing beige more seriously but I find it all a bit dull. I'm in robust health so have no hospital stories to swap or ailments to complain about. I still use the term granddad in a derogatory fashion when roundly cursing other car drivers whilst conveniently forgetting I am a granddad myself.

The only thing that reminds me of my age is the mirror. Just like Dorian Gray I remain young while the face looking back at me gets older. Therefore, the point is, I might think I am 26 years old but the rest of the world knows I'm a delusional old git.