Barriers to employment? Just ask the over-50s

I read a depressing document this week. PRIME (the people I did a business start-up course with last year) have put out a report called 'The missing million: illuminating the employment challenges of the over 50s'. That 'million' is the number of people over 50 they estimate to have been made ‘involuntarily workless’.

It's good that someone's raising the issue, but as Helen Walmsley-Johnson points out in a Gransnet post, they're not the first and they won't be the last and it's not worth much unless something changes.

Written by a demographic think-tank called the International Longevity Centre, this is the first of three reports looking at 'the economic barriers facing the over 50s'. Don't get me wrong, I am pleased that they are campaigning about this. But I don't think the message is a helpful one.

Enterprise, energy and anger

Two months ago I started a course called Preparing to Run Your Own Business. Or, as I like to tell it, ‘I’m doing a business start-up course’. Because start-ups are hip (hey, they’re what young people do), and being trained to be a ‘senior entrepreneur’ is not.

What are you going to do when you grow up?

I blogged a while ago on good things about being over 50.  I recently found another one.

Everyone's heard of the Prince's Trust. Hardly anyone's heard of the Prince's Initiative, aka the Prince's Initiative for Mature Enterprise aka PRIME. Yes, I think it's one of those things where they chose the acronym first and then worked backwards.

We're so pretty, oh so pretty... ancient. And we don't care.

When your baby sister turns 50 you know you are getting old. My little sister was 50 a few weeks ago and it was definitely one of those 'how the hell did that happen?' moments. (I'm sure it was for her, too.)

Some are born middle aged, some achieve middle age, and some have middle age thrust upon them

There's a card going round at work for someone who is having his 50th birthday soon. I was surprised. I thought he was already 50.

Fifty-plus? Recognize yourself? Thought not.

I saw this poster in a local shop window. It said:

“Autumn Leaves 50+

Our object is to provide entertainment and social activities for older members of the local community and is now open to all over-50's. We hold monthly Bingo sessions and have coach trips most months of the year as well as Summer Tea and Christmas lunch. New members are always welcome.”

Just kill me now.

The seven ages of woman. Or, why I'm not having a happy birthday.

It's my birthday today. Apart from the cake, I'm not particularly happy about this. (Cue compulsory 'at least I'm still here', blah blah, disclaimer.)

Lots of people today have wished me happy birthday. People younger than me.

50 is the new 70

Down the road from my house there's a billboard advertising sheltered housing. 'Independent Living For The Over 55s' it says, alongside a photo of a smiling, middle-class 55-year-old woman and an almost identical smiling, middle-class 85-year-old woman. It's not clear which one of them is plotting to put the other one away.

Don't call me a silver surfer

It's official. The golden generation previously known as 'digital natives' no longer exists.

Researchers at the Open University have decided that there is no generational difference between how people use the internet. It's more about learning styles or something. (I think this is just an academic take on 'you're as old as you feel'.)

Thank goodness for that.

Most of the time I feel about 46. Sometimes I feel 16.

Most of the time I feel about 46. Sometimes I feel 16. And that's not a good thing.

I decided recently, and deliberately, that I felt 46. I thought I ought to choose something - because I don't feel my real age, which has a 5 in front of it - so I chose something realistic. I think I can actually get away with this one, for a while at least.

The times they are a-changin’

In the year or so since I’ve been writing this blog, a few things have happened. I’ve turned 50*. I’ve kept it quiet. And I’ve started to get used to the idea.

Being in your fifties is definitely something that takes getting used to. But when you do, it’s not that bad. There are times when it feels like freedom.

The past decade has been interesting experience. There’s a lot of difference between being 40 and being 45. Being 45 did feel like a turning point. I wouldn’t quite say it’s all downhill from there but you start to realise you look different, and you know you creak more. After 45, you can’t pass as ‘young’ so easily. By the time you get to 50, that doesn’t seem to matter so much.

It’s a different sort of turning point, more mental than physical. And mostly positive. I read somewhere recently that 50 year olds are ‘complacent’. I hope I’m not. I might have the occasional ‘I did it my way’ moment but that’s down to relief as much as anything. I wouldn’t dare to be smug. I know this freedom won’t last; I know that the older you get, the more scope there is for bad stuff to happen. But I’m going to enjoy it while I can.

*I also turned 51.

Get it on

I’m chatting with a bunch of 20-somethings at work and they’re talking about how the wedding invitations are all starting… Which made me start thinking about life stages.

For me, it’s 50th birthday party invitations. Two parties in the past month, both great fun and both with a lot more personality than the off-the-peg rites of passage that the youngsters have to put up with.

The latest was a 1970s themed event, which made me ponder as I haven’t done since university about the propensity of English men to put on drag. It also opened an old debate: who was the prettiest – Marc Bolan or David Cassidy? Bolan won. Possibly on the grounds of being dead.

I'm glad I'm not young any more

Good things about being over 50. 1. Cheap insurance. 2. Er, that's it.

You know you're getting old...

My friend has just turned 50. I bought her a great card. It has a badge on that says 'SAGA lout'.

Elvis Presley has left the building

The NME was right when it put ‘Remember him this way’ on their cover the week Elvis died. I was wrong when I thought the Clash were cool and prophetic. ‘No Elvis, Beatles or the Rolling Stones in 1977.’

The world would be no poorer without the Rolling Stones, and I could happily live without ever hearing the Beatles again. But Elvis’s death was a loss.

In the end, the Clash had to own up to their debt to Elvis (and there aren’t many musicians who don’t have one). At least, they allowed a homage in Ray Lowry’s album cover design for London Calling, based on an Elvis LP sleeve. (There’s loads of pop trivia where this came from, fact fans. You’re reading someone who once beat a Mastermind contender on ‘punk rock in the 1970s’. Without even revising.)

Life begins at 44

According to the Guardian, 50 is the new 70. Or something. Stephen Moss’s article ‘It’s official: happiness resumes at 50’ comments on some research that shows you’re going to be the most depressed in your life at the age of 44. After that, apparently, it gets better. Not from here it doesn’t. Maybe it’s different for men. Moss says:

"The first 40 years of life is text, the rest is commentary," wrote Schopenhauer. .. I reached 50 last year, and far from being distressed by that supposedly defining moment, I've never felt better. I now accept that I am deep into my commentary period, and am enjoying it hugely.

Personally, I was pretty happy at 44. It felt good to be a grown-up at last. I would have quite liked to stop the clock then. There’s a lot of difference between being one side of 45 and being the ‘wrong side’. It’s embarrassing, for a start. And after a while, you begin realising that someone’s been stealing your life. It sounds as if Stephen Moss is happy to hand his over. I’m not ready to do that yet. I’m not ready for wisdom if that means accepting things. Because that means giving up. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel ready for that, even at 70.

Why Madonna is amazing

A conversation at work: Colleague: ‘Madonna is my hero. She’s amazing. She’s nearly 50.’ Me: ‘What’s so amazing about being nearly 50?’ I’m living a lie. People don’t know how old I am. I’ve always looked younger than I am. When I was 21 this was really annoying. Now I like it a bit better. I remember when I was a child hearing jokes about how women lie about their age. I never understood the jokes. But now I understand why they do it. It’s not vanity. It’s not trying to deceive people. It’s to see if anyone will notice. I wonder how long it will take before I start saying: ‘I’m 83 you know.’