THE JOYS OF TURNING 50

A happy new year to you all!  I’m especially glad to be sitting here typing this as last month’s December doomsday could have meant the end of blogging as we know it.  However, as luck would have it, the world didn’t end which means I can happily continue my cyber prattle until the next one is predicted.

Of course what the Mayans didn’t foresee is that 2013 is going to be a momentous year in our household.  There’s a catalogue of special events taking place beginning with my 50^th birthday this month and including the daughter’s wedding in July, the son’s 18^th birthday in August and fingers crossed, his acceptance into Drama School in the Autumn.  Even if the world hasn’t ended, my days of being a full time PA and chauffeur to the world’s hungriest teenager are slowly drawing to an end as his time to leave the nest creeps ever closer.

But in the meantime, I’ve the joys of turning 50 to relish.  Exactly what these ‘joys’ are I’ve yet to discover but I’m thinking cheap insurance, higher interest on savings accounts and perhaps being offered a seat on the bus in the mornings for starters.  Instead, it’s sagging boobs, thinning hair and the constant urge to visit the Post Office.  Honestly since I passed 40, I can’t remember the last time I saw my pubes!  I figure they’re hidden somewhere under that mound of less than elastic stomach muscles and skin flaps but I wouldn’t swear on it.

Whilst in the cricketing world a half century is something not to be sniffed at, in reality everyone else is at that ‘glass half empty, half full’ moment when they reach 50.  Yes you’ve done well to get this far but it’s a clock counting down kind of scenario from now on-wards where everything’s got to count.  Though as the media keeps reminding us 50 is the new 40 so still plenty of time to spend the kid’s inheritance getting every body part surgically enhanced, dating someone half your age or scaring the crap out of the neighbours base-jumping from the roof to dissipate your new found middle-aged energy.  Woo hoo!  Being 50 is fab!

I looked out of the window this morning across at the waterlogged garden and realised I wouldn’t have to disguise the fact that I love gardening since everyone under 30 years old automatically assumes that only ‘old’ people (everyone over 30) loves gardening.  I can now openly declare this on any consumer surveys when asked about hobbies.  Scrub out those sexy sounding hobbies like ‘triathlons’ or ‘parkour’ and replace with ‘gardening’. 

I tried to picture in my mind’s eye what our garden might look like in another 50 years’ time.    Would the rhododendron bushes be as tall as the wall or taller?  Would the bay tree be a foot wide?  Would we still have birds visiting McTwitters or find frogs in the pond?  Would those pesky neighbourhood moggies still be crapping in my vegetable beds?  Will I be too old to chase them off if they are? 

Well, if I haven’t got a garden by then at least I’ll still have Shelby to help me enjoy the twilight years as Horsfield tortoises often reach 50 and beyond.  Here’s looking at you kid!!