Half Century

I have to admit that it was with some trepidation that I actually woke up this morning. Life, you see, has changed today because of a benchmark annual event that has suddenly and mercilessly made me "old".

Today, I turned 50.

As yet, I haven't had the need to speak it, but if the difficulty I'm having even typing it is any indication, I'm in for a protracted period of adjustment counselling before I can resume my proper place in society.

I certainly don't "look" 50, even if I do have less hair. I don't "think" 50 either and my bedroom and desk are the same mess today as they were when I was 17.

I still play computer games, get excited by fireworks, drive too fast, stay up too late and sleep in too long, buy lollies (candy) at the supermarket, eat coco pops for breakfast, watch Trar Trek and Stargate at every opportunity and prefer books with pictures.

I think South Park and the Simpsons are funny, and would happily watch Night At The Museum a third time. I've read Harry Potter, seen all but the most recent of the films too. My favourite rides at theme parks always involve going fast or a roller coaster or a boat that finishes the ride with a death plunge into a pool of water, and I deliberately drive through deep puddles just because the sploosh is fun.

I am as net savvy, and tech savvy as anyone, though, I don't like the music today... actually, having listened to some of it, I have concluded that there isn't any original music today so that's not a problem either.

The language hasn't changed all that much, and neither has fashion, so I'm certainly not dressing or sounding 50, though I do occasionally hear myself chant "young people today have no respect", just as my father, and his father, and all fathers before that have done for thousands of years.

And if I was single, I'd still be chasing girls in their twenties and thirties, even if that did mean having to deal with the discomfort of having to explain stuff to their parents, some of whom may be younger than me. Of course, a twenty something or thirty something will happily go out with a bloke in his 40's, but mostly, they wouldn't be caught dead the the company of a 50 year old (unless he was exceedingly rich, which I'm not), so that proposition's entirely academic on two counts.

I must face the reality of the day though, so I've set aside a little time, just before my mid-afternoon nap, to go out and get a walking frame, a box of incontinence pads, some tinned prunes and a hat to drive in. I'll be trading in my little Smart car for something more like a lounge room on wheels though sadly, I'm not in America where I'd be able to buy the aptly named "Oldsmobile".

A little later in the day, I'll call talk back radio and tell the world that "back in my day", things were whatever they were, and I'll call for jay walkers to be publicly flogged and complain about young people having no respect.

Strange things, birthdays. I think they mean far too much.