Strictly not too old!

The row over the sacking of Arlene Phillips (66) from BBC's Strictly Come Dancing rumbles on. After Harriet Harman previously describing the decision as "shocking" we now hear the Lib-Dems Equalities Spokeswoman telling the Party Conference it "sent a bad message" and "she would not be able to describe her feelings on the matter in parliamentary language."
Interesting as well that we get Justin Lee Collins (35) wading in with a swipe at Bruce Forsyth (81) suggesting that he should have got out 3 or 4 years ago. I wonder was that a piece of clever PR to deflect from the sexism aspects of the Phillips - Dixon row?
It seems a shame that ageism will be the likely casualty in this row. If you watch the show (which of course I don't) you would appreciate that the original panelists shared a similar perspective as critics, and so maybe a different angle will limit repetition. There certainly were clashes and personal exchanges. The trouble now is that if Len (65) falls out with Craig (44) as he did last Saturday (I'm told) we will dismiss this as cantankerousness by the old fella!
Of course it's viewing ratings that will ultimately settle this debate and the head to head with X Factor last Saturday wasn't a good result with Strictly losing out by 2 million viewers.
But the BBC have the answer. They've "gagged" the Strictly judges and issued suitable responses they can give to questions on the affair. Their record with costume drama is renowned and adding censorship to ageism within the plot is bound to increase viewing levels.

Beige is the new black!

We've just got home after a wonderful week's holiday on the North Devon Coast and what a result it was! With weather expectations fixed firmly low by the miserable rain of July and August we were delighted to find wonderful blue skies and warm sunshine. And on top of that the schools had gone back...sorry kids, no offence intended.

North Devon is a great part of the world. You've got the peaceful isolation of villages like Berrynarbour, the one we stayed in. The stunning beauty of the cliff top walks that link up rocky bays and coves. The "time stood still" experience of towns like Lynmouth...and the incredible Clovelly, a must see with it's narrow cobbled high Street that steps down from cliff top to harbour. And the hugely popular surfing locations like Woolacombe and Croyde. Of course we gravitated to the latter. I'd always fancied a go at surfing. It may be difficult now though. The legs are bereft of reflexes ever since the disc op. The permanent catarrh and ear problems make balance a bit difficult. And despite my best efforts, a bit of white fluff on the neck was as near as I got to the bouncy long haired look of the young board dudes. Mind you I maybe could have fitted in with the "senior surfers." These were the guys who'd long since lost the bouncy long hair and seemed to wear a larger sizer of black wet suit. I didn't actually see any of them surfing but they walked about the beach a lot with boards under arms and expressions of serious intent on faces. Yes I could have managed that but I'm not so sure I could have kept up with the beige army. Bless 'em, they were all out there with their walking boots, hiking poles and beige windcheaters of course. Scampering up and down cliff walks. Snapping pictures from precarious vantage points. On the 175 step ascent from Clovelly Harbour we were actually overtaken by couples who easily gave me 15 years and should have given me a 50 step start. Of course I had to show that I was still fit and energetic and unwisely chose to try and catch and pass them. It was the next day when I paid for that rashness. Oh the pain!! I'm still not sure whether I've kicked off the old disc problem. Or maybe it's a hip joint....oh dear...that's another of life's milestones!!! Anyway, the cool dude surfer look definitely went by the board as the holiday was played out with a walking stick. To be fair it wasn't a walking stick...more of a hiking staff, which I thought gave me a rather impressive biblical look. Not sure the cheap stetson from a gift shop complimented this though! But at least I was my own man....no wet suit or beige for me...just yet

"I'm treated far better than I deserve thanks!"

A couple of nights ago I bumped into my long-time friend Alan in Sainsbury's. He stood by the chiller cabinet....closely scrutinizing his shopping list in one hand and an 8 pack of sausages in the other. "Isn't it scandalous" I observed..."how prices are going up all the time." For a second or two we nearly went into one about grocery inflation, and then instinctively realised we were heading towards a grumpy old men conversation and pulled back just in time. Alan and I go back many years when we both joined Golden Wonder as young ambitious Divisional Sales Managers and we like to think we haven't changed much in the subsequent 30 years. And I always smile inwardly with nostalgia at Alan's retro 70's hair style....although it's snow white now. Of course we have changed. Both divorced. Twice in Alan's case. Bit heavier. A bit wiser....and that's not because we started from a low base as Golden Wonder Sales Managers!
Both fairly healthy....considering!!! We were certainly encouraged to live a certain life style in those GW days. Our boss Keith had a terrific attitude to motivation which was to start by treating yourself well. Of course we followed his teachings faithfully. Good restaurants. Posh hotels. Well stocked drinks cabinet for home entertaining. All claimed on the expenses budget of course. What we may not have realised at the time though was that this apparent self-indulgence did motivate us to do our best. What Keith was doing of course was creating the trappings of success and because we behaved as if we were successful we made sure that we were successful. We felt like winners and we were obliged to be winners.
30 years on we still recognise that attitude in ourselves. The expense funded meals have gone although we both still have the Cross pens. But more to the point we learnt and still practice that philosophy feel that life is treating you well and you will want to repay it by doing your best with life. We shared stories of our current successes, particularly Alan's offer of a Sales Management role. "At 62!!" And agreed that today's breed wouldn't hold a light to us ex-GW managers. And then we were off, stopping at the chiller to get some of that delicious Italian Red Grape juice that Sainbsbury's sell. "This stuff has that anti-ageing ingredient" says I. "Righto" says Alan, "Give us one here!"

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!