where's my bus pass???

That's it! It's official! I'm an O.A.P!!!! Yesterday was the 65th birthday.

But like any previous birthday of mine it's still enjoyed in that traditional childlike manner. I was awake early, causing some annoyance and confusion to Lynda. Then a few choruses of Happy Birthday to me jogged her memory and a sleepy "Happy birthday Hon!" wafted out from under the duvet.
After a birthday cup of tea in bed, which Lynda thought was a nice gesture on my part, cards were ripped open over breakfast. Funny isn't it how you still want to shake them in case a postal order for 10 shillings drops out. Greetings were a mix of love, respect, nostalgia, and inevitable comic ageism, and a special mention must go to my great friend Miriam who thought it was my 60th!! That's what friends are for.
The family were dropping in at 2.00 for "birthday cake and glass of wine" (the proper birthday bash is an alfresco dinner next Saturday.. probably under the awning!) and Lynda joined me in "big kid mood" pinning up balloons and banners.
When the heavens opened at 1.55, I thought to myself "show some concern....go and pick up some of the girls and boys." I knew nothing about prior arrangements for lifts and couldn't understand the confused look I got from son-in-law Simon as our cars passed. Of course, once we all converged at my place they all quickly blamed "the silly old fart" for confusing everybody.
That episode apart, the silverback was shown much respect from all, apart from Simon...but he can't really help himself. I did smile though when he absent-mindedly kicked over a glass of wine and went very quiet. And I got a brilliant present. Memory slippers...and they really work. With my memory slippers on I can now go into another room and remember why I went in there. They're amazing! I'd never previously understood why you see old boys out shopping in their slippers. Now I do. They're wearing their memory slippers so they can remember how to get home.
It was a great afternoon of doughnuts, Lambrini and dolly mixtures shared with the nearest and dearest. And for a while I forgot it was my birthday and found myself quietly watching the kids. "R" and "M" the little un's, engrossed in their magical world of play where they write the lines for us to act. "E" and "C" who always seemed to fall out but are now best mates in their privately shared world of Super Nintendo. Grandson "J," 13 years old but still eager to compress his near 6 ft frame and play cars with the little 'uns. Grand-daughter "J," now a proud mum herself, grown up and wise. Then a gusty chorus of "Happy Birthday to you" reminded me that I was meant to be centre stage!

Later that evening, I worked out why I continue to get this childlike excitement, and why I was pre-occupied watching the kids. It's because for me, birthdays aren't simply about reaching milestones or completing stages in your life. They're about starting new stages.

Do you remember how as kids we used to look forward to the day "when I'll be big enough to do that?" We saw birthdays as enabling events. My philosophy is that every birthday should be approached with that same sense of anticipation and new opportunity.

....Now where did I leave my memory slippers????

Bobby Moore's legs

It was something my ex-wife said when we were courting? "Oh I love Bobby Moore's legs!" And as a typical self-conscious and insecure teenager, when your girl friend says how much she admires some aspect of another man's physique it can be distressing. Especially with legs like mine! They have always been what you might call slender around the ankles. A condition not helped by years of chronic sciatica and resultant "severe muscle loss." This dramatized explanation, with added mention of "disc removal," plus my stoical attitude always creates the desired discomfort in anyone insensitive enough to look and comment.
And they do comment! None more so than my two daughters and a grand-daughter (you know who you are!) I take it all in good heart though, and with some understanding on account of them favouring their mother in the ankle department. I'd always believed her story that she'd been a ballet dancer until I realised she'd inherited her ankles from her father.
And then there was the girl friend from Southend-on-sea who graciously allowed me a trial at Thorpe Bay Tennis Club. What a bunch of posers! You couldn't get near the bar for bulging bronzed thighs jostling for prominence on the stools. And how encouraging she was! "Couldn't you wear two pairs of socks?" was her so sensitive suggestion.

So it's meant that I'm never one of those that feel compelled to wear their shorts come the first spring sunshine. You've seen them....in their Adidas singlets and Bermudas while the rest of us are still in fleeces. No it takes me up until the longest day, which was about the time of the Outlook bike ride around Pitsford Reservoir.
A beautiful evening during that Wimbledon Fortnight heatwave....the shorts were definitely coming out. And besides the good old boys of Outlook aren't of the stuff to comment on a mate's legs. Except of course for Bill the acccountant. (There's silverback supremacy at play here....more at a cerebral level than testosterone one perhaps!) "First time out with the legs Bob?" he ironically enquired. A quick glance confirmed that his lightly reddened pins had of course seen some sun. "Yes I think opalescent would describe mine" I replied. Adding with a hint of condesenscion "but in time you learn to ignore what others think don't you Bill." We enjoyed a marvellous ride around Pitsford Reservoir. With our shorts, bikes and backpacks we had a pleasing nostalgic look feintly reminiscent of Enid Blyton's "Famous Five." The legs revelled in their first summer outing, and I was reminded of a personal belief that has developed over the years if you can't change what fate gave you...get on with it and be happy. As we completed the circuit of Pitsford Reservoir (making sure I got in ahead of Bill) I noticed that opalescent legs had turned a pleasing hint of parchment. And I was happy to accept I just wasn't destined to have legs like Bobby Moore...bless him!

"...but Bobby still lacks confidence in himself"

.....So wrote JC Howell in my year end report at Old Oak Junior Mixed School in July 1955! 3rd in the final year and with grammar school entrance beckoning thanks to 11 plus success, this as history would show was my peak of academic achievement.... but yes, I lacked confidence!

And events through the subsequent teen years seem to confirm this lack of confidence. Always prefering to pay for cinema tickets rather than join my mates bunking in through the exit door. Attempting to "negotiate peace" when discovering the stranger I'd called "Fatty" was in fact Reg Chaplin one of the hardest kids in town. Wanting to talk about the views from her window when invited into the house of the most fanciable girl in Hammersmith.

Then in later life I learnt as we do that we are our own worst enemy when it comes to facing challenges or fulfilling potential. Came to understand how self-limiting beliefs undermine our confidence. Experienced how difficult things become achievable when you simply adopt a positive attitude.

Then it's "hey...look at me mother!" And I'm out there! Public speaking. Running training sessions. Working the room at business network events. And if honest, slightly enjoying the moment when someone says "oh I couldn't do what you do!"

But like so many afflictions, and self-confidence is one, it doesn't go away. It gets pushed to the back of the mind but can be triggered off by something. Like an invitation to a party.

It was my great friend Miriam's 50th! Of course we would go. But as the day approaches I get those worries about meeting strangers. Think about those awkward social moments.
And adding to the pressure of social acceptance..
we've got to follow a "seaside madness" fancy dress theme.

So I get all worried. Start telling myself that I won't enjoy myself. Have thoughts that are totally self-inflicted concerns. As well as being completely daft!
The evening was brilliant. My "Englishman wearing a bandana in knotted hankie style" outfit was a hit. Contingency plans to leave at "about 10!" went totally by the board, as we enjoyed the company of some lovely people - and met a few interesting ones too!!

So looking back at JC's comments in that school report I do wonder how they may have influenced me in those teen and early adult years? I should have skipped over them to JP Widrig's, after all as Headmaster he had to be wiser. He simply observed "On your own two feet from now onwards!"