Turning 60 (part 1): WTF?

Is that all there is?

This year, I turn 60. How did that happen? 60 is the age my Nana and Grandad always were. It’s where you stop being middle aged and start getting called “older”. It’s totally incompatible with my self-image. (But so was 50, and I got used to that… sort of.)

Bring on the New Year. I'm not afraid.

Every year for most of my adult life I've spent New Year's Eve saying: 'Well, I'm glad that's over, let's hope the next one is better.' And 365 days later, there I was again saying 'Well, that was shit, I'm glad it's over.'

I didn't do that this time. In 2014 I was unavoidably closer to 60 than 50, and I don't want to wish my life away any more.

Life after life

It's that time when you get those 'books of the year' articles in the papers, and it's reminded me about  Kate Atkinson's Life after Life.

I'm a big fan of Kate Atkinson, but when I first read the book I wasn't sure what to make of it. Now, though, I'm starting to get it. It's stayed on my mind, and it's chimed with so much else I've been pondering on.

Life's too short for New Year Resolutions

I have no aims for 2012. I'm tired of telling myself I 'should' be doing or being something I'm not. Life's too short.

This year I won't eat my five-a-day, take more exercise, drink less beer, get more sleep.

I won't spend less time on the internet, read more books, blog every week, remember to mow the lawn.

I won't lose a stone, measure my carbon footprint, cut my carbs, use less packaging, get off the bus early.

I won't go for a walk in my lunch hour. I won't get up early for anything.

I won't 'be my own life coach'. I'm not setting goals. The only lists I make will be shopping lists.

I've finished with self improvement. I will never make a New Year resolution again.

The problem is, doesn't all that sound just like one?

Halloween, Christmas and the death of ordinary time

Last week, I noticed my local pub was advertising 'Halloween weekend'. Basically, three days of 'celebrating'. When I was young, Halloween was just one hour in the evening and a bowl of apples.

That's until the Christians decided Halloween was a Bad Thing and then it became nothing. But nothing is, in fact, what Halloween means for most of us. Not something we celebrate. Not really part of our culture.

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.

Life’s too short

Finally someone has written a song called ‘Life’s too short’, my own personal Older Than Elvis motto.

Actually they wrote it a long time ago. The record by the Lafayettes was apparently released in this country in 1962, when I was (I promise) a very small child. I finally discovered it last week courtesy of Brian Eno.

Someone at BBC4 decided that last Friday was going to be Brian Eno night. Eno has a reputation as a rock intellectual so I’m pleased to say that I learned three interesting things from the Arena documentary: 1. Brian Eno wrote the theme tune for Arena. 2. Suffolk looks very nice. 3. He loves this record.

I love it too. I also love the fact that some rock’n’rollers have subverted YouTube from a medium for sharing videos to a medium for sharing their record collections. You won’t find anything this good on Spotify.

Fool's Gold

I’ve just heard a TV news item about Spandau Ballet re-forming. Please no. It was bad enough seeing all those fat middle-aged punk bands back on the road, but at least they made good music.

‘They were incredibly stylish’ says a talking head, who is old enough to know better. No they weren’t. They were incredibly stupid.

Being all style and no substance is not the same thing as being stylish. It's the same thing as being a waste of space.

...a new one just begun

This year I will resolve to stop saying:

• A bit rock’n’roll.
• Punk’s not dead.
• You had to be there.

I hope I won’t have to say:

• Is it me or is it hot in here?
• Happy Christmas, war isn’t over.

Sweet old world

I’ve never been a fan of singer songwriters, but sometimes songs tell the truth better than anything else. I’ve heard songs by Lucinda Williams and recognised myself. And once I heard a song of hers and recognised someone else. Someone who died twenty years ago and should not have done. Here’s the song.