Instant gratification takes too long. – Actress Carrie Fisher 

The idea is to die young as late as possible – Moral to live by 

Who’s the nitwit who came up with the notion of old age as something romantic and bittersweet? Who conjured up the vision of grandpa and grandma walking hand in hand towards a glorious sunset, against a backdrop of heavenly chorus and a thousand violins?

If you still don’t know what I mean, I refer to the poet Emerson: “The best tunes are played on the oldest fiddle.” 

Bah, humbug and claptrap, I tell you! 

When I was young, I used to spring out of bed like Bertie Wooster, with a song on my lips and joy in my heart. Nowadays, an unintended spring in one’s step is generally a harbinger of cramp. 

Nothing’s the same anymore. An affair of the heart these days might be, at best, heartburn.  Worse, it could mean a bypass in which case the only one with a song on his lips and joy in his heart is the surgeon. 

Irony abounds. When I first graduated, I was sent to a state hospital to run its biochemistry lab. But because all the technicians were older than me, I grew a beard to appear more mature than my years. 

Unfortunately, the plan got nixed by my then-girlfriend who declared that if she wanted that sort of thing, she would have dated a gorilla. 

Life’s unfair. If I suddenly decided to sprout some facial foliage now, for example, gorillas would probably flee screaming into the night. 

In her old age, my wife has become slightly dictatorial. Example: she signed me up with a fitness instructor without my knowledge.

The guy is seriously buff. I mean, even his ears have abs. He also has the heart of a Heinrich Himmler because he does not realise I’m at that age when taking a nap after lunch ranks right up there with One of Life’s Pleasures. 

But my instructor looks on these things with the horror of an un-scrubbed surgeon. Afternoon naps after food guarantee increased body weight, he declares with the rectitude of a killjoy who knows he is not only right but has God on his side.

Now, I feel aches and pains in body parts and muscles I had no idea I possessed. But I’m told I’m now bursting with fitness, health and vigour. 

Endorphins are positively coursing through the old bloodstream, but you won’t see me ecstatically kicking up my heels any time soon. 

Indeed, if I get any healthier, it may be too much. There’s only so much pain a body can bear. 

In short, growing old sucks and there’s no getting out of that. Or as Woody Allen observed: “Life is full of misery, loneliness and suffering…and it’s all over much too soon.” 

Even so, there are benefits along the way.  More often than not, there’s the good drink, the great meal and the belly laugh amid the company of friends. 

There’s the love of a relationship or the sudden nostalgia generated from the smell of freshly cut grass. There are the memories that can trigger a smile, or a tear, amidst the flotsam and jetsam of a life well-lived. 

Time marches on over our faces and much of everything else. But we should not complain: when you don’t have a leg to stand on, it’s best not to kick.

The alternative does not bear thinking about.

ENDS