Being 70

 A few things happened recently to bring this milestone into focus.

The first was earlier in the year when we decided to get our trellis replaced. Two of the posts had gone at the base so the thing was flopping about in any wind and had to be tethered to a bench with heavy plant pots on it to stop it potentially blowing over. As we contemplated finding a fencing contractor, C commented "It's probably the last time we'll have it done". The current trellis had lasted 15 years; the implication was that we'd be gone from here within 15 years. (SHOULD WE BE LOOKING FOR A BUNGALOW NOW?!!!)

Secondly Mum's death meant that, as the firstborn of two firstborns, I'm the oldest person in our side of the family. The only blood relatives who are older are Mum's sister, J, and Dad's brother E. 

Then one of the guys with whom I play tennis was telling us about his dad's long-standing prostate cancer, which is now life-threatening. "But he's had a good live", he said, "He's 72"!

In the last few months a couple of acquaintances my age have died: one from my year at school and another who worked at Fisons way back and who lived near us.

Finally I was putting away a T-shirt I'd ironed, which I remember getting on a holiday shortly after the 9/11 tragedy. If I'm wearing shirts that are 20 years old, and looking at my wardrobe there are plenty of perfectly good shirts in it - will I actually need to buy another shirt???  Ever?

Quite apart from impending mortality, being 70 isn't so bad really. You can use it as an excuse for family parties, extravagant meals with friends, and all sorts of treats I haven't even thought of yet. I fully expect my celebrations to continue for 12 months at least. Then it'll be another birthday!