Shock and de­spair! I’m now fi­nally un­der­go­ing the cat­a­clysmic evo­lu­tion into an old woman

Bray People - - ABOUT GREYSTONES -

T HERE HAVE been a few dis­turb­ing de­vel­op­ments in my life of late and it has me wor­ried. Very wor­ried. Firstly I've started lis­ten­ing to Lyric fm, Now be­fore any of you cul­ture vul­tures start throw­ing your eyes up in de­spair, let me add, there is ab­so­lutely noth­ing wrong with Lyric fm. It is a de­light­ful ra­dio sta­tion...if you're 90!

The thing is, I've never been a clas­si­cal mu­sic kind of girl. The only time I was brought to the opera, I fell asleep on my date and woke when peo­ple started climb­ing over me at the in­ter­val. I'm more an 80's pop per­son - a top of the pops, MTV, Fab Vinny sort, the type you see singing along be­hind the wheel of her car and sneak­ing peeks of her­self in her rear view mir­ror.

But lately I find my­self tuning into Lyric when I'm in the car be­cause I find it sooth­ing. I go to bed at 9pm, light scented can­dles and watch Call the Mid­wife and Mr. Sel­fridge be­cause I find it sooth­ing.

Last Sun­day I found my­self tucked up with my elec­tric blan­ket, a Wispa (which I have to say are NOT the same any­more at all), the Sun­day Times and Call the Mid­wife on the telly when I thought, ‘I am so happy. What could pos­si­bly make me hap­pier?’

A cup of tea was the an­swer. Can you be­lieve it? That's all I wanted, a cup of feckin tea, out of one of my sooth­ing pale blue mugs, with two spoons of sugar and a good drop of milk. That would have com­pleted my per­fect Sun­day evening.

None of this may seem wor­ry­ing to you. But coming from a woman who used to wear hot­pants, chase rock stars and defy author­ity at ev­ery avail­able op­por­tu­nity, this is cat­a­clysmic.

OK so maybe wear­ing hot­pants is out of the ques­tion th­ese days, and maybe chas­ing rock­stars is too (although I wouldn't like to rule that one out al­to­gether!) but where is my oomph gone? My de­sire to do any­thing for a laugh, my mojo, my joie de vivre as one old friend de­scribes it.

D OES THIS hap­pen to ev­ery­one at a cer­tain stage in their lives? One day they wake up and all of a sud­den they are re­spon­si­ble adults with fam­ily or­gan­is­ers, Tesco loy­alty cards and a yearly sub­scrip­tion to Good House­keep­ing? I don't par­tic­u­larly want to grow old dis­grace­fully but nor do I want to die of bore­dom!

Of course this could just be a tem­po­rary glitch. Him­self has com­plete faith in me and puts it down to the Jan­uary Blues. ‘You'll be back chas­ing rock­stars, and singing along to Larry Go­gan in no time.’

He did ad­mit how­ever he was a bit con­cerned when I started wear­ing polo necks a few weeks back and was go­ing to sug­gest I talk to some­one. ‘I al­ways know you're not your­self when the cleav­age gets put away,’ he in­forms me re­fer­ring to my bo­som as if it was a car be­ing put in the garage.

I just said ‘ bo­som'! It's time to turn off Mr. Sel­fridge me­thinks and go root out that won­der­bra. Some­times the an­swers are just star­ing us in the face!

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from Ireland

© PressReader. All rights reserved.