Dear LPG Readers,

 

I want to say a few words about age - note that I did not say old age. 

Can you remember far enough back to a time when you were too young to go on some of the fairground rides, weren't allowed as much pocket money as your older friends, or had to stay home while classmates were permitted to go out? It is one of life's crueller realities that we are so often either too young or too old to do what others are allowed to do. Then, as we get older, the limitations imposed by age stop being about permission and become something else entirely.  Somehow, "too young" merges into "too old", and age can seem to work against us from both ends of the spectrum. 

As I have wandered through life, it has struck me how funny things can turn out. 


In the last office where I worked, I was the oldest member of staff during the months leading up to my retirement. Although my younger colleagues never made me feel different, I was conscious of being a little out of touch. There was always that quiet feeling in the back of my mind that the world was moving on faster than I was. 

I remember sitting through conversations about the latest music stars, make-up trends and the challenges of raising young families. While I would quietly reminisce about when my own children were young, I found it rewarding when the conversation turned to how I had dealt with similar situations or what life had been like in the 1970s. Many of my colleagues were young enough to be my children, and looking back, they often treated me as a combination of agony aunt and surrogate mum. 

Now, after about twelve years of retirement, and having established myself within a new close cluster of local friends, I find myself the baby of the group again.   

We spend plenty of time together, arranging shopping trips, summer outings and visits to clubs so that we can go together. As I listen to the challenges they face - many of which may still lie ahead for me - and hear them reminiscing about famous personalities and events that I know only from history books, I find it quietly satisfying to realise that, despite my age, I am still too young to remember everything they are talking about. 

People often say that age is just a number, but there is something genuinely uplifting about being the youngest member of the group, even when we are all well into later life. I find myself asking for explanations about references to 1950s celebrities, household gadgets and long-forgotten events that passed me by. It is a surprisingly positive feeling. 

Of course, growing older brings its share of aches, pains, health worries and the nagging sense that you have achieved less than you once hoped, and can make you feel out of touch with so many things that are going on around you. It can also leave you feeling out of touch with a rapidly changing world. 

But I wanted to offer a different perspective to anyone who finds their age a reason for sadness. Perhaps the answer is simply to find a few friends who are even older than you. 

You might be surprised how young it makes you feel... 

YP, Brockley