On the face of it, neither our own old age, nor the difficult age we live in, is funny. But when you start to put your bus pass in the fridge and the butter in your handbag, and to name five other relatives before you reach the one you want, and when firemen are told that the most important lives for them to save are their own and nursery school staff aren't allowed to cuddle tiny children to comfort them when they hurt themselves, then we have to either laugh or cry. Crying brings temporary relief, but humour is more versatile and lasts longer.
When we are children we hear the phrase "Life Begins at Forty" and it shakes our belief that grown-ups know it all, because every child knows that at 40 you have one foot in the grave. It is only when you reach that venerable age that you understand the meaning of the phrase, and in fact every decade has its compensations and we go on enjoying them (50 or so and no more fear of unwanted pregnancies, 60 or 65 and you get lots of "concessions".) At 70 you are still pretending to be middle-aged and can get away with it, but at 80 - there's no getting away from it, you're old.
I have never heard anyone say "Life Begins at 80", but it has its points. For one thing, the Government has just sent me £200 to help pay for fuel. But there's a lot more than that. So long as you have your health and a bit of help here and there, there's much to enjoy - a wonderful freedom. You can get up and go to bed when you like (no timetable to stick to), wear what you like without worrying about fashion (in fact may get an unexpected compliment from a granddaughter when you put on something retrieved from the back of the cupboard from 30 years ago which she tells you is "retro"), accept invitations or refuse them, say what you like- even get away with being politically incorrect, pretend to be deaf when it suits you, and you always get a seat on the bus! And you have worked out what it is you want and don't want to do - you are out of the rat-race. No more competition! Lovely!
Which brings me to the friendly streets. One advantage we oldsters have is that we grew up before the days of the "Anti-Hero". That was when heroes were the good guys and the bad guys got their come-uppance in the end. I think that was even a rule when it came to films (Hayes Office) - the same one that said when two people were on a bed one had to have their foot on the floor! If I'm wrong, someone will love to correct me. I blame James Bond for starting it all - a truly horrible man who was, is ,a hero! Now everybody despises good guys. It's "cool" to be bad. I've always liked Cliff Richard, for example, but everybody else seems to hate him. Starting up a sing-song, when asked, at a wet Wimbledon and getting even the rather serious Navratilova singing lustily seemed to me an admirable thing to do . If I'd been there I'd have been grateful, it must have been a lot better than sitting glumly being dripped on and waiting in silence for the rain to stop, but he has been mocked for it ever since. Perhaps if he had said "I'll do it for £20,000" he'd have been better understood?
So I think we grew up taking it for granted that most people were quite nice and only villains were nasty people. I still think that is the case. You can count on it. After all, if you fall down in the street you know that in no time at all somebody will be helping you, finding a chair from a shop or lying you down if that is what is needed, someone else covers you with a coat, yet another phones for an ambulance, staying with you until it comes and probably giving you a telephone number in case it is needed later. But, somehow, we don't think it is the case. Newspapers make their money on muggings and murders and obviously wouldn't get any readers if they just wrote about the 99.99% of people who get home safely. But the press does create a climate of fear which I think is quite unnecessary, especially for old people. They particularly don't like to go out in the dark, but, for goodness sake, in the winter that's about 4 p.m. The young, if inclined to be violent, mostly attack each other, apparently to grab each other's phones. I haven't even got a mobile phone and if I did have it certainly wouldn't be the kind anyone would want to steal. I will come home as late as I like on the bus. My children don't like it, but I don't want to be dependent on mini-cabs drivers whose taste in music I don't share, and who no longer come to the door, but just telephone from the kerb to say they are there! There will come a time for that, but I'm going to enjoy my freedom while I can. Besides, the dear old bus is free.
But I wouldn't launch into a blog - which is difficult for somebody as IT-ignorant as I am - in fact couldn't have been achieved without the help of the next-generation-but-one, without a more serious intention. For I believe we do collect some wisdom over the years.
I am emboldened to try to share my views with some other people because recently two issues that I have been bothering myself about for over twenty years have just now been recognised as worth acting upon. Writing to MPs, writing to papers, attacking the local Council, none of them had any effect, but now they are happening. If only somebody had listened to me 20 years ago, a lot of anguish would have been avoided.
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| L S LOWRY 'The Village Square' |
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