Going nowhere? Not us!!!

I read in a recent sunday paper about the appointment of Rachel Johnson as Editor of The Lady magazine. She explained her quest to realign the magazine with its target readership and was quoted saying "These days many older people still see themselves as youthful. We need to be reflecting that back at them." Another memorable quote which I thought really captured her view is "more hip...less hip replacement!" Brilliant! Totally aligned with the mission of "OnWeGo!"

Prompted by my 65th's cream cakes in the office day, I got into conversation with a colleague about plans to carry on working. I took the opportunity to explain the aims of "OnWeGo!" talking about "us wrinklies" and the huge contribution we can continue to make in work and life. My pal's attitude was a bit of a surprise. "But you have to make way for the young coming in!" he reasoned; adding "How else will they get their opportunity?"
His remarks did make me think back to my days in Local Goverment, when in my mid-twenties I decided that the progression culture of "experience and seniority" wasn't for me. I left a good job, happy to start on the bottom rung of a career in sales. I felt then that it was totally wrong to use age as a criterion for opportunity...for me it was ability and application that mattered. And guess what? 40 years later I feel the same way!!!

So returning to Rachel Johnson's quote. My take on this is that we should believe and act as if life's opportunities are as equally available and rewarding as ever, and that our capabilities to secure them are as effective and powerful as ever! Believing that if we don't behave in this purposeful way then we send a message to the mind and in turn the body that says "We're going nowhere.....you can step it down a bit now!" Because guess what? That message gets heard...neuro-transmitters switch off...memory systems shut down...faculties stop working!

So don't worry about dwindling pension funds..
Stop fretting about delayed retirement dates....
Bring on those opportunities.....
.....it's "Power to the people!!!".....(of any age.)

"Rock on Tommy!"

Did you see Tom Watson's brilliant effort in the recent Open Golf Championship. He so nearly won...and he's 59! Did you know that? He's 59!! Yes...every commentator and pundit must have told us at least twice, so that must have been 200 times, given the size of the BBC Team.
"SHUUUUUT UP!!!" I eventually shouted at the screen....as those of Tom's and my age do. Why do people have this obsession with "seniority?" But at least it distracted the team from their usual mantra that The Open is the best golf championship there is.....is that because it's the oldest????
And another thing!!! Why does the BBC need 100 commentators when they only have 2 or 3 cameras covering about 6 or 8 players..."best in the world??? Mmmmm....Check out the US Masters to see coverage of all players around the course.
Anyway it did all manage to rekindle my passion in the game at a time when I was reappraising my swing. I'd been asked to read the drafts of a new book on golf technique written by Roy Palmer. It's great stuff! Tips and advice on how to get into the zone...relax the muscles, all designed to replicate a good swing. We'd taken the theory to the driving range for some practical application and I was hitting off the mat sweet as you like. Which was very handy because next morning I was playing 9 holes with son-in-law Simon. This was my first game in a long time. Simon plays very well without effort or stress. We were playing at Priors Park Corby...home to my worst golfing moments. But I still looked forward to it!
It all came back to me as I stood on that first tee with queing players watching from behind the chainlink fence. Many's the time that fence saved the lives of onlookers as my tee shot viciously hooked left. I surveyed the fairway with out of bounds to the left and right...and I'm sure the fairway is only half its original width.
Then I remembered Roy's methods. Relax the jaw. Get into the moment. Let the swing do what it knows it can do without my intervention. And it was off...a soaring left to right fade slightly edging Simon's drive. An elegant 8 iron then got me to the edge of the green. Chipping on, I then putted in two to card my first ever 5 for the first hole. The same happened at the next hole. Always a dodgy one for me. But again I was in the zone....outdrove Simon and carded another 5.
This was brilliant. I'd have been happy to go home now. Especially when I spotted the lone golfer playing behind us and hurrying along. You can tell when somebody wants to join in your game!!!
"Would you like to play on through?" "Naahh! That'll just hold you up...I'll just join you lads.............if you don't mind that is?" I just couldn't get into the zone after that.
Jimmy played in the Seniors...3 days a week...knew the course well....and was good company. Us seniors have got to stick together. Besides, I'd had my moment of success. It didn't last as long as Tom Watson's but for 15 minutes I had my hand on the Claret Jug. Rock on Tommy (and Jimmy)

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!"

I can't walk on water!!

Walked into town today and had to wait up for sometime at Sainsbury's while a heavy rainstorm passed over.

Standing under the outside canopy, I chatted as you do, with shoppers contemplating a trolley dash to their parked cars. I made friends with a waiting dog who found my foot a comforting source of warmth for his shivering wet backside. I was entertained by the Sainsbury trolley "herdsman" who was positively wallowing in the rain and rather like a conjuror producing flowers would surprise shoppers with his folding umbrella.
I endured the secondhand cigarette fumes from the odd puffer, who to be fair would have found it difficult to smoke in the rain! And I listened to the mindnumbing repetitive jingle of the Fireman Sam kiddie's ride.
I think it was the second of these annoyances that made me think that getting rainsoaked wasn't so bad!
And besides, I had seen numerous young people walking past who were happily wet through. They do it all the time don't they. You see them going to school in the pouring rain, seemingly oblivious to the soaking they're getting. I'd always thought it was a mind set thing. A bit of anarchy mixed with the self-belief of walking on hot coals.....or water.
That's for me I thought! Anarchic self-belief!

I was off. Initially at a bit of a jog, until the achilles played up. Then at a brisk walk, albeit a bit erratic because the achilles were quite painful now. 100 yards or so later and after a few strange looks from beneath the umbrellas of passing teenagers, I stopped briefly in a bus shelter. I had to stop. I couldn't see as rain ran into my eyes.

No turning back though and no point waiting either. Over the road, avoiding eye contact with passing strangers in their so sensible rainwear, I strut out ignoring the pain in my achilles.
Fortunately there are no more onlookers to worry about. Who'd be out on a day like this?

Then a car hoots and clearing my eyes of water I can see it's my daughters. Great! They're waving. I wave back. They don't wave again! No... looks like your on your own here matey!! Into the park. And there it was. The ultimate test of immaturity. A huge great puddle! Now I'm beyond caring. Straight through the middle. No looking for the shallow bits, this was foot slapping Gene Kelly at his best.
50 yards from home, a passer-by, with unknowing irony, offers to share his golf umbrella and does look somewhat relieved when I decline with thanks.
Then a final sprint up the street...just in case any neighbours see me, and in through the front door. So I'm breathless, aching and of course very wet...but I'm home.
Now I have to say I shall take my umbrella with me the next time I hoof it into town , but walking in the rain apart.. I won't let a bit of temporary discomfort or curious glances from onlookers ever stop me doing anything!

Out of the mouths of children

During the recent hot spell I bought my two daughters straw hats as sun protection while working on their allotment. I think it was the sight of their sun burnt mother (the "ex") recently home from holiday, that motivated the purchase. I'll resist getting sidetracked here on their mother's apetite for holidays and suntanning....the thing I wanted to mention is the allotment!

Isn't that where I should be heading as an imminent retiree? Are they subconsciously setting me an example of how to behave. Is this an instance of the child becoming the parent? I suspect so judging by their disapproval of my recent antics when chasing after "abusive" motorists!

That's the wonderful thing about Grandchildren. They never disapprove. I took four of them to Warwick Castle during the half-term holiday. We missed the A46 junction on the M6...too busy talking. Hardly a word of dissent during the extra half an hour we added to the journey. The 20 minute walk from the car park wasn't a problem - except for the ones who always tell it as it is! And what acclaim when I waved my pre-booking voucher to one of the Greeters and we managed to "VIP our way in" ahead of the long queues. The day was a great success! My inaugural packed lunch was enthusiastically put away. Responsibility for choosing and navigating us to the programme of attractions was skilfully delegated and readily accepted, and I felt that I anticipated their expectations very well. OK... Maybe they were "very understanding" when the early vantage point I grabbed to watch the jousting was obscured by pushy latecomers! Perhaps they were also "very grown up" about settling for the £4 replica sword instead of the authentic looking £10 full-sized version! And maybe the fun was mine alone as we played "find the lost car" as we returned to the wooded car park!

Heading home, I decided against the slower scenic route via Leamington, electing to turn left and head for the A46 and the M42..... and the first traffic jam!!! This was the customary M42 rush hour fantasy incident and not surprisingly there was some bewilderment as 30 minutes later we passed by the alleged incident?

Picking up speed to 20 mph we were soon on the M6....and quickly into the second traffic jam. We didn't move for over half ann hour and I began to sense growing indifference to my attempts to entertain. Then the day's accumulation of cold drinks had the inevitable effect! Boredom turned to painful anguish. My absent minded observation that we would have been home an hour ago if we'd gone via Leamington didn't help. Then relief all round as the traffic moves and we hurry into Corley Services for further relief all round.

Despite not having moved much in the previous two hours the good old Lexus 300 didn't stop using fuel at a bankrupting rate, so a vital fill up was necessary before we left Corley. What is it about motorway services that gets you so disorientated? Whatever it is, it led me the wrong side of the car pump area. I weighed up the idea of reversing back between exiting juggernauts. Cool? No!! Stupid? Yes!! We went with the traffic, back out onto the M6, and with a near empty tank. Hiding my anxiety well, it was a totally unexpected exit that we made at Coventry in search of a petrol station. The hint of surprise in the chorus of "where are we going now?" suggested that my reservoir of trust and goodwill was also verging on empty. But a refuelled Lexus and a large bag of chocolate eclairs from the forecourt shop soon restored my infallibale grandfather status. Back to a thankfully free-flowing M6 and with no further incidents we were off home to download stories to their mothers of a "brilliant day out with grandad!"

Afterwards, when thinking back on this graciousness that kids generously bestow on their grandparents it made me ask myself - why is it that we have to lose that forebearance towards others? Do we have to mature into sceptical and critical adults who feel the need to offer opinions whether they're useful or not? Should we not try harder to retain the graciousness of children?