Getting Old's Such A Bastard!

Sat here, typing this, wearing my " Computer Glasses ". What I just typed looks fuzzy, if I look at it over the top of the things. Key Board too isn't what it used to be.

When I've done this, I'll probably settle down to read a book. I'm not a member of any compelling fora right now. Well; There's One I find it hard to keep myself out of ~ or, did. Only that one's now throwing a long term wobbler and half of us can't get in there half the bloody time anyway! So, I miss it. I'm pissed off. And I thought I'd come here and moan to you bastards about it. Then I'll put my Reading Glasses on and read that book.

Day got off to a flying start. I was up incredibly early, for me; 10:00. Fired this thing, and a fag, up and no sooner had it dragged its arse into life than I got an e mail from a very long standing mate of mine. Kev' and I are of an age and we've known each other half our lives. So far back we meet ourselves .....

And what had Kev' e mailed me about? Simply to have a fucking good moan about how Old we're getting! To summarise, he said; " Bugger, the reality is that age brings all the penalties of a wild night out but somehow manages to deny us the preceding pleasures ".

Too fucking true, mate! I read that. Laughed. Realised laughing could bring on a fart and so hauled my sorry arse out of this chair and staggered off towards my ditch. Groaning softly to myself as my joints tried to move anything like they used to. Falling naturally and unconsciously into my now usual manner of crossing uneven land; Left hand pressed to my lumbar region.

Purpose of all that? A fart. A man simply Cannot trust a fart once he's passed a certain milestone in life. It seems we start out completely unaware of them. We grow to be embarrassed by them. We then reach the stage where we may take a youthful pride in them. They're 'Fun'. A 'Laugh'.

A young man may delight in them. What bloke Hasn't woke up, following a good night on the piss, followed by a great night on the wife, next to rip one off like a low flying jets engine and then kick the quilt about with self induced hilarity?

Try that at my age? I'd drink the beer alright. But then I'd pass out. Wife, if there was one, would have to use her fingers. I haven't got the fucking stamina anyway. Barely got the upper body strength. And as for greeting her with an impressive burst of bodily gas and unbridled laughter in the morning? I'd likely just drench the fucking quilt and then be subjected to such a beating ..... Wouldn't have the stamina or upper body strength to fend off an irate woman either, these days. FFS.

Remember the craic about rolling around on ye back, knees drawn up and lighter in ye hand? Try to ignite the fucker without managing to incinerate ye own scrotum? I tried that too, decades ago. Wouldn't try it now. My Zippo may be, supposedly, Wind Proof. But, I don't think even a Zippo could contend with what I'd likely put its way if I tried that caper now.

Come to that; Zippo's aren't what they used to be either. I've used them for most of my life and I've watched their physical decline, quite keeping pace with my own, as it happens.

I'm led to believe it's this soft, Irish water? I don't know. Expect Kev's the same way. And he's never set foot on Eire. Now, what the hell was I on about in the first place here? Oh, yes .....

So, I've got this e mail from my old oppo', this morning. Recieved it as it came in. Because I was up early. And why was I up early? Would ye fucking believe it; I had an appointment for a Hearing Test!

Taxi turned up moments later. I was actually ensconsed in my ditch when he arrived. So, there's me. waddling across the damn grass, doing my belt up and kissing goodbye all thoughts of finishing my cup of tea, let alone my bloody fag. And off we went, to a town I've only before visited for the Horse Sales. This time we were looking for the Health Centre.

All credit to both Gary (the taxi) and the Irish Health System; I had an 11:00 appointment. Gary got me there bang on 10:55. By 10:59 I was in the room with the lady set to sort my ears out! Fucking impressive!

Not much to say about the test, really. They just put these headphones on ye and ye have to tell them when ye can detect a sound. Odd sensation that; Sitting there, gazing out the window, listening. Never quite being sure when ye were Supposed to be hearing a sound. And wondering if she's muttering, " Old cunt. Ye deaf as a fucking rock, aren't ye? ".

Turns out I'm mildly rock like, in my left ear. Right one though's half way to pure granite. So that's the one they're fitting me up with a Hearing Aid for.

Fucking marvellous, isn't it? I've long since become the old guy in the Post Office. The one who constantly cups his ear at the cashier and yells, " Sorry ....? ". Then, when passed a form by them, fucks around in his pockets for his reading glasses.

Now they're to be giving me a hearing aid. Jesus christ. What next? Walking stick? Bus Pass? Wooden fucking overcoat!