Enjoying My Seventies

There was a time, when I was 55 years of age, that my days seemed numbered. Having advanced cancer of the colon, I knew that my prospects were gloomy. The diagnosis was virtually a death sentence. Against the odds, I survived. I remember thinking, ‘ At least, I’ll never have to contend with the aches and pains and indignity of growing old.’ This was my consolation. Remember Shakespeare’s horrifying description of old age in his ‘Seven Ages of Man’?

Those Remembrance Day lines, ‘They shall grow not old’, likewise, are words of consolation intended to ease the sting of an early death. I’m glad I have lived to grow old. A life cut short is an incomplete life.

I remain calmly aloof and detached as my friends worry about ageing. For me, waking up each morning is a miracle. The sun shines ever more brilliantly. The sky looks so blue. The singing of the birds sounds so exquisitely sweet. Yesterday has gone forever. Tomorrow may never come. Today is what matters. The tiniest thing, like the first snowdrop sighted, sends my spirit soaring. I want to spread my wings and fly.

On my 60th birthday I was out on the street, holding a collection box for the Samaritans. ‘I’m 60 today. Help the Samaritans,’ I’d chant to the passers-by. Some must have thought I was daft. Actually, I was intoxicated, intoxicated with the joy of being alive. Some stopped to ask me why being 60 was such a big deal. I explained. My joie de vivre was contagious. Many gave generously.

I retired from full-time work but took the occasional job till I was 65. At first, being called a senior citizen or an OAP sounded so derogatory, patronising and pitying. In America, I believe, the term is ‘Wrinklies’. Are wrinkles such ogres that you are willing to part with a fortune to have your skin cut and stretched, spending your remaining life in agony watching for the demons to appear? How miserable being old must be in America! I soon ceased to care about labels people had for the elderly. I accept graciously and gratefully any benefits that come my way - £5 off a theatre ticket, one-third off a rail fare, or free entry to a museum, added to a £10 bonus at Christmas, a fuel payment of £100.

When I attained threescore years and ten, I had a series of parties. I hadn’t gone in much for parties up to then. My old school friend, Hazel, came across from Dublin and her daughter came with her friend from Edinburgh. It was they who decided that this was an event that had to be marked in style. We went out together for a meal, giving me a break from cooking and washing-up. Next day friends and neighbours came and we opened a bottle of champagne and cut a celebration cake. Then my nephews and nieces arrived from Lincoln and Nottingham to join in the fun. We made merry over a period of five days. It was like 70 birthdays rolled into one! Mike, my husband, celebrated his 70th three years later. If I hear him once again say, ‘I’m an old man now’, I’ll scream!

Now I’m 73, going on 74. Looking back over the years, I realise that the 70s have been, for me, the most exciting years of my life. I’m not referring to the 1970s, although they were brilliant years, too. Even when working full-time I was never as busy as I find myself these days. What do I find to do that keeps me so busy?

Firstly, there’s bridge. It’s one game that you could never be perfect at and, therefore, you could never be bored with it. It’s a challenge all along the way. It’s also recognised as a good way of keeping your brain exercised. Conversation concentrates on stories of hands played, slams bid and made, successes and failures. How boring it must be for non-bridge players! There’s a saying, ‘Friendships cease at the bridge table’ but I like to think that friendships can also begin at the bridge table! Certainly, you need a skin as tough as an elephant’s, as partners can be really nasty when you play badly, not to mention the opposition, who is always on the lookout for infringements of the rules. It’s a fiercely competitive game. Having the Director called to you takes some getting used to. It’s not a game for the over-sensitive!

I enjoy other pursuits, too. Early this year I began writing my real life stories. This is every bit as addictive as bridge. It’s good to be able to recall the past without being morbid about it. I’m more of a mathematician than a writer but, much to my surprise, I’m enjoying writing.

I’m hoping to attend a course in creative writing when my computer classes end. So many people from around the world have been reading the stories and encouraging me to go on writing. Anna, my daughter, has given me the go-ahead to write a book about her amazing life story.

That brings me to computing. I started learning in January and one course leads to another. Owning our own computer has opened up a whole new world for Mike and me. We spend far too many hours on the computer. At no other period of our lives would we have appreciated this occupation so much. Is there, I wonder, an equivalent term to ‘screenager’ for people in our age group?

Having an active, adventurous daughter contributes to the excitement of our lives. In my seventies I have found myself trying out various sporting activities which scared the wits out of me – kayaking, wall-climbing, Canadian canoeing, skiing. ‘You didn’t, at your age, go abseiling down a wall!’ is a typical reaction from less adventurous people in my age group. The look of incredulity on their faces as you confirm that you certainly did makes you feel great.

Over the past two years Anna has presented us with tickets to top London shows, the spectacular Royal Albert Hall productions of Aida, Romeo and Juliet, and Madame Butterfly, as well as leading musicals, The Phantom of the Opera, Les Miserables, and Whistle Down the Wind. While she was working in London, she constantly planned exciting trips to the capital for us. We’ve also been to lectures and meetings, including two really interesting interviews, conducted by Libby Purves, of two remarkable women, Virginia McKenna and Kate Adey. Imagine having to wait till you’re in your seventies to enjoy the high life! ‘He who is tired of London is tired of life,’ said Johnson. I’m not tired of London and I’m not tired of life.

In my teens I read a poem by Matthew Arnold which left a lasting impression on me, ‘The Scholar Gypsy’. I longed to see Oxford and experience its university life, at that time an unattainable dream. At the age of 70, however, I found myself on the River Cherwell in a punt, a pleasure I never thought would come my way. Spending a weekend in a college, attending formal dinners, going to plays, concerts and lectures lifted Mike and me into a world we had only ever dreamed of up to then. Yes. I know we were merely sampling the rarefied atmosphere but for one weekend we lived our dream.

Anna now wants Mike and me to visit her in Namibia, even to be part of an expedition, not necessarily engaging in energetic pursuits but helping with the planning, using our newly acquired computer skills! Maybe, just maybe, we’ll take her up on that in 2002! ‘Go for it, Mom,’ I can hear her say.

Wait a moment! What’s this she said about injections? Am I ready, at the age of 73, to overcome my fear of the needle and my suspicions about foreign substances being introduced into one’s body? A small price to pay for such a prize? My old school friend, who is Anna’s godmother, has told Anna that she’ll go if Mike and I do. She is a year younger than I am. Mike is three years younger. The grey invasion of Namibia may yet take place!

Last year my younger sister and I flew to New Zealand. We coped fine with the long journey via Singapore. Climbing a steep 1000 ft hill with my nephew, swimming in Awakeri Hot Springs with my niece and her two young sons, and whisking around the farm on the back of my nephew’s motor bike, I felt young and free.

Just now, the leaves need to be raked and swept up while my body needs some exercise! The fallen leaves remind me that winter is almost upon us. I’ve already reached my winter and it is full of very special joys. You are as old as you feel. Chronological age has nothing whatsoever to do with how you view life so cheer up, all you fellow-septuagenarians!