Thankfully, my world at 64 is very different from the one John Lennon and Paul McCartney portrayed in their song. And how different for `Lennon from the one he imagined. Murdered aged 40, he didn’t even get remotely close to 64.
‘You belong in Hollywood!’ my admirer enthused, having seen samples of my writing. ‘I love you already! You are the best!’ I was on that flight quicker than you could say Beam me up, Scottie.
What’s everyone got against beauty? At a time when women are being denied their very gender, this should be a time to celebrate womanhood, not consign it back to the box where it lay dormant for centuries.
Did we really used to live at this pace? Was stress embedded into our every waking moment? I am not the only person who took stock of life and started to reassess what it was like BC (Before Covid) and what it might be after. I still do.
It’s never been clear how they acquired their alleged wisdom. Arriving with presents of gold, frankincense and myrrh for a new-born smacks of idiocy to me.
Don’t be shocked by the number of dead animals on offer for human consumption; if it has a pulse, the Spanish will eat it.
What I liked about cones was that they were easy constructions. All the melting goo would seep nicely through the structure and you would never have to get your hands dirty. But they don’t make cones like they used to.
My heightened state of anxiety these days, though, I am going to put down to a whole new phobia – Googleaphobia. Because no matter what happens to me, my friends, or in the world at large, I am onto Google to investigate further, and now I live in fear of what I am going to find there.
On my first day in the small village school (we had moved from Newport for my father’s job), Mum sent me off in a psychedelic crimplene mini dress and a cow bell round my neck. She was a Sixties mother. Alas, Coity had barely caught up with the end of the Second World War. Actually, make that the Wars of the Roses.
Our favorite was Steph’s, in Dean Street, run by the very flamboyant Steph. I was also a member of the Groucho Club, a few doors down, and we would retire there for early evening drinks when we had exhausted all conversation with whomever we descended upon at Steph’s (we once enjoyed a very jolly five-hour lunch with Tony Blackburn).