I’m middle aged. I’m 42. And this side of ‘40’ has thus far resulted in reading glasses, having to wash the grey from my hair more frequently and more trips to the doctor in the past year than I’ve had in the past 20 years. Once I’ve finally got my head together, it’s my body that goes all Pete Tong.
Recently, however, I’ve become aware of another symptom of middle age – I’m no longer a product of the world in which I reside. The world of my youth is gone, a distant age symbolised by long dead VCRs, Pac-Mans and Walkmans, smoking in pubs, dial landline telephones, typewriters and cassettes. The new world, feels strange, disconnected from me. I do not want it to be this way. I want to be part of this world. I try. Look at me, typing on my laptop, texting on my phone, updating…
View original post 252 more words
Leave a Reply