Three score years and ten.

 

Well, I’ve made it. I have officially reached my ‘allotted span’! The trouble is I just don’t believe it. But to prove it I have a small collection of birthday cards with the words Happy 70th Birthday on them so it must be true!  The question is, how do I react? Do I ‘slow down’, ‘act my age’ or what? How do you act 70? I’ve really no idea. My mother’s generation had a much more precise idea of the ageing process. By the time you reach 70 you were officially ‘old’.  But I don’t feel old. I don’t feel all that different from my 60th birthday, or, come to that, my 50th. I remember my 50th as if it was yesterday. Paul and I spent the night with a couple of friends at The Belfry near Sutton Coldfield and had a round of golf on the championship golf course there. My eldest son, who was working in Birmingham at the time, sneaked into my bedroom while we were at breakfast to deposit two very large boxes on my bed. When opened they revealed some extremely large helium balloons bearing the legend ‘My Mum is 50 today!’ My beloved husband and both my friends refused to acknowledge me as I walked through Reception with them floating over my head! That’s friendship for you.

This year Paul and I had dinner at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre prior to seeing a production of The Roaring Girl in the Swan. The write-ups were not brilliant, but the production exactly fitted my mood! Rumbustious just about fits the bill. Still not sure of the exact story – but who cares! We have tickets for several further productions, and for some films at a local cinema. Nothing is to be gained from sitting at home and stagnating.

I am still playing golf, especially now my 3 monthly injections of vitamin D are kicking in. I seem to be winning the battle there. My medical problems are NOT related to the fact that I am now 70! But I do still need to remember that exercise, in the fresh air, is important. A trip up to Oversley Woods with the dogs to see the bluebells at their peak is very much on the cards next week, when the sun is sure to shine! I just love that particular shade of bluebell blue. So very English somehow, even if they turn out to be Spanish bluebells. To be honest I am not sure how to tell the difference, although I am sure I have been told several times! In one ear out of the other.

That brings me nicely to my next subject. Not just keeping the body active, but the brain as well. The Latin class resumes tonight after the Easter break (wine and chocolates for all to celebrate my recent Big Day!), and I have also been taking some free on-line courses. The one just finishing is Shakespeare and His World, a fascinating insight into several plays, and the world around him led by the brilliant Professor Jonathan Bate. And I am just starting another called Start Writing Fiction. Not sure about this one. It seems to consist mainly of postings by other students who seem to be very ‘up themselves’! (One section had over 3500 posts! I read very few) However, it is only Week 1 so I expect it will settle down over time. But I am looking forward to one starting soon on the recent archaeology of the Roman harbour of Portus.

For once I am ahead of myself. This is because I have a very sad appointment tomorrow. While I was studying at the Open University I took a course called 5th Century Athens which kick started my love of the classical world. My tutor was a lovely, if slightly eccentric, lady called Eileen Powell. She died on Christmas Day last year, and there is a memorial service for her tomorrow. I have so much to thank her for. RIP Eileen.

 

1944

Was a very good year! It was the year many of the members of the Ladies Section at Stratford Oaks Golf Club (including yours truly!) were born. This picture may show one of the highlights for most people, but for my parents it was the birth of their firstborn – me! My father was not at the birth unfortunately, but, according to his military record, my birthday, April 22nd, was also the date he got his commission, from Flight Sergeant to Flight Lieutenant. An officer and a father on the same day. I can only imagine the party in the Mess that night. This is not my Dad, but it is the right vintage. His wings would have have been half ones only, though, with an N for navigator.  Seventy years later the 1944 ladies are going to celebrate with a round of golf at another local club, and a meal. With so many of us we really have to mark the occasion.

Seriously though, it never fails to surprise me how much younger seventy year olds are than previous generations. It is a given that we can still do the things we have always done, and if, for any reason (normal, not age-related illness for example) we can’t we feel thoroughly let down. I am still in the process of blood tests etc. for some sort of ailment which really irritates me! Getting things done through the NHS is not a task for anyone who is not in rude health! You need to push and shove, and keep on pushing and shoving. The NHS does not seem to be set up to follow through. When I need something in 3 months it is beyond their capabilities to set a computer prompt, I have to ring up and make the relevant appointments. Then ring up to make sure I get the results of tests, and any relevant follow through. I do understand why those who can afford it opt to pay privately. I am getting there, but it is a hard grind.

Last weekend was Mothering Sunday. My three all remembered (thank you all!) which is nice. I remember so well  the day I became a mother for the first time. I remember shouting at my husband that he had better be satisfied with just the one. No way was I going through that again. Hmmm! See sentence number two! Nature is wonderful, it makes us forget until it’s too late to do anything about it! It is just so sad that my own mother is not here to see how her grandchildren are getting on. This is for all the mothers who aren’t here any more.