High on life ..

When people reach a certain age i.e. mine, they find themselves beginning a lot of sentences (particularly to younger colleagues, children's friends etc) with 'I used to'. It's a sad reminder that for various reasons, including physical decline, we no longer indulge in the activities that used to define us.

In my case it was clubbing. I never did much else with my spare time except drink and dance. Then it stopped being fun. Sunday morning's hangover stretched through until Tuesday night. My knees would ache and creak. As if by (tragic) magic my body morphed from hourglass to pint glass so that dancing in front of the mirror at home went from narcissistic to masochistic and sexy suddenly became silly. For the sake of my dignity as well as my health I had to stop. (If you’re reading this Madonna take note – you’re older than me for God’s sake).

For quite a while there was a void. What was I if I wasn't a life and soul, up for it, clubber? It was an unsettling time, the transition to middle-age. I still wanted to be in the fast lane but I could feel that I'd dropped down a gear, lost my revs and couldn't keep up the pace. Reluctantly, I eventually indicated and pulled over into the middle lane, watching enviously as the bright young things sped past.

Now though I've got used to the slower speed and begun to enjoy it. I’ve discovered that I can have a good time without the aid of alcohol or drugs (I don’t need to take drugs anymore; I get the same effect if I stand up too quickly). The only time I’m seen staggering around now is if one of my corns is playing up.

I've started to develop new interests - ones that don't require youthful stamina or toned arms and can be performed in comfortable shoes. I garden, bake and write – with varying degrees of failure. I visit garden centres, stately homes, museums and galleries – all of which involve a break for tea and cake. I read library books in bed and do Sudokos on the tube to work.

Does that all make me sound terribly dull and middle-aged? Well, I haven’t been entirely truthful, of course I still have my mad moments –why only last night I had a nip of Baileys in my bedtime Horlicks.