THE AGE OF SE­NIOR­ITY

A BRUSH WITH SE­NIORS CARDS AND SE­NIOR MO­MENTS HAS HAD ME THINK­ING ABOUT THE WIS­DOM OF STICK­ING WITH WHAT I KNOW BEST

Life & Style Weekend - - MAGAZINE | TUGBOAT TALES - WORDS: ASH­LEY ROBIN­SON

Well, the past week has been a piv­otal one for me ... ac­tu­ally, the past cou­ple. A few weeks ago, our friends down the road asked Old Mate would we like to join them for a play at The Events Cen­tre, Caloun­dra. It was put to me like this: “What are you do­ing on Satur­day, May 25. Would you like to go to a show?”. My hes­i­tant re­ply was: “Well, the Fal­cons are play­ing Ip­swich at Ip­swich”. Old Mate replies: “I guess you will be go­ing there, then. That’s OK”. I im­me­di­ately sweated up and felt like there was pos­si­ble en­trap­ment in play (if I choose footy, I pay a much higher price at a later date). There­fore, with alarm bells ring­ing louder that Big Ben in the vac­uum where my brain is sup­posed to be, I de­cide the show is where the smart money is. I no­ticed a hint of sur­prise when I agreed and then I was told to talk to the neigh­bours re: what we owe them for tickets etc. On con­tact­ing them, I was told two things: the show was called Se­nior Mo­ments ;an­difi have a Se­niors Card, a dis­count ap­plies when they buy the tickets. Here is the thing: Old Mate has a Se­niors Card but not me. I haven’t been able to bring my­self to ap­ply for one as I didn’t feel that old. It’s a bit like my dad who re­fused to take up bowls back in the ’70s as he said it was a game for old peo­ple and he didn’t feel old. That is ex­actly how I felt about a Se­niors Card. While I am 62 this year, I don’t re­ally feel like a se­nior ci­ti­zen. But with en­cour­age­ment from the neigh­bours, I ap­plied for one on­line and it ar­rived a cou­ple of days be­fore the show, so I got my dis­count.

The night of the show was slightly up­lift­ing as I felt like a young­ster among the largely se­nior mem­bers of the 600 or so who at­tended – to the point that if a melee would have bro­ken out be­cause some­one hogged the Iced Vovos, I would have gone all right. Now the show it­self was medi­ocre. The cast was out­stand­ing but in my opin­ion, the script/show was a bit av­er­age. I did de­scend back to feel­ing old with my Se­niors Card firmly in my back pocket when I re­alised two of the stars of the show were John Wood (Blue Heel­ers), which was bad enough as he looked younger than me, but even worse, Benita Collings. “Who?”, you may well ask. As I sat there watch­ing the show, I thought to my­self: “Gee, that woman is fa­mil­iar”. I was puz­zled un­til Old Mate pointed out she was the host of Play School from 1969-1999 and, bug­ger me, she looked younger than me as well. The whole ex­pe­ri­ence has dragged me kick­ing and scream­ing into my se­nior years and the ex­pe­ri­ence can best be de­scribed by a cou­ple of things writ­ten in the free pro­gram handed out on the night: “The show was mes­meris­ing”, which means I nearly fell asleep; and it’s a “se­nior mo­ment” when you have to ex­plain to some­one what liq­uid paper was, what car­bon paper was and pretty soon what a news­pa­per was. Go the Fal­cons.

“IF A MELEE WOULD HAVE BRO­KEN OUT BE­CAUSE SOME­ONE HOGGED THE ICED VOVOS, I WOULD HAVE GONE ALL RIGHT.”

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