My Mum is 84 today. I sent her a box of birthday goodies which she enjoyed very much, and this morning I FaceTimed her first thing with birthday felicitations before she went off a-gallivanting with Auntie Pollie, a mere stripling at not quite 82. (Auntie Pollie has recently informed me that her doctor has now banned her from chopping her own firewood. ‘I still do the kindling, though,’ she added, conspiratorially.)
Anyway, this octogenarian birthday celebration got me thinking about my own next ‘big’ birthday which will occur in 20 months’ time. I shall be 60. I can’t quite compute the idea of reaching 60 on account of the fact I still feel the same as I did in my thirties (possible younger) and, touchwood, my health continues to fare well. This morning, Lord Malarkey and I took Nell for a walk around a country park which is very hilly bumpsadaisy , and therefore a good cardio workout. There I am, striding up the hills in a stiff breeze, leaving Lord Malarkey behind, who is 5 and a half years younger than me! I thought, yup - I’ve still got this!
(Nell continues to do very well off-lead. She even turned away from an inviting pile of horse poo in favour of running back to me when called for a nubbin of cheese.)
And then I had a thought (not about the horse poo, although, with hindsight, I could have taken a sack with me and collected it up for the garden) - no, my thought was how about planning a series of sixty things to do that I’ve never done before, one a week for the sixty weeks leading up to my 60th birthday? Not a bucket list, per se, because I have learned to be comfortable with death and therefore don’t tend to think about it beyond making a Will (tick) and burning all my diaries (half a tick).
Well! Sixty things I’ve never done before, eh? I worked out that I’d need to start this Grand Venture on 15th September this year (ironically my little sister’s birthday - she’d have been 54 this year), to culminate on my sixtieth birthday with some big gesture - a comedy balloon or something, I haven’t decided yet. This gives me just over six months of planning time.
I began thinking. And I soon realised that actually, because my world has become quite small, a lot of the things that other people might do - travel the world, swim with sharks/pigs/very tight trunks, participate in extreme (aka dangerous) sports - are of no interest to me whatsoever. Not that this matters because I am not other people. And then I thought, is this the attitude to take? Shouldn’t I be stepping outside my comfort zone, challenging myself to face derring do’s, risking it all for a biscuit? Shouldn’t I be sticking my head above the parapet of the world and laughing in the face of danger?
The answer is, OF COURSE NOT, silly! I am very fond of my comfort zone, thank you very much. I have done my duty to target setting and goal achievement because I’ve been a teacher and that’s what senior management make you do every year during your performance management sessions. ‘You’re an excellent teacher,’ they say. ‘But you need to set yourself targets to be even more excellentererer.’ Nope, I didn’t like it then, and I don’t like it now. I can’t be doing with all the stress and anxieties that making myself go on a zip wire and landing in a vat of custard might set off. Also - custard - bleurgh! I am an introvert. I like to be grounded. I like peace and calm. And I like my heart to stay at a steady pace. Climbing a hill in the wind is about as strenuous as I want my heart to pound. I want to glide elegantly and serenely towards sixty, not judder in looking a nervous wreck.
To that end, I am possibly going to have trouble coming up with a list of sixty items. Perhaps I should whittle it down to twelve items, one a month in the year preceding November 2025? But then that wrecks my series of ‘Sixty For Sixty’ blog title idea. ‘Twelve For Sixty’ just sounds like a bad deal. I shall plod on then, with thoughts of a studious and careful nature. I’ve got six months to make a plan.
I’ve concluded today with a single item on my list. Brace yourselves…
…1) Bid for something at an auction.
(But what if something goes wrong? I mean, I don’t want to bid for any old bit of tat. It has to be something worthwhile, something that I actually would like. And what if I get carried away and blow my life savings? What if I overbid for something that isn’t worth a bean and all the seasoned auction-goers point and laugh? Am I already over-thinking this? Sigh…)
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KJ
KJ