Time for the tartan blanket

It's official. I am an old lady.

It's been creeping up on me for some time now but today it really hit home. I found myself standing in a local CD/DVD emporium clutching a copy of Alan Bennett's The History Boys and the latest Ministry of Sound compilation. I was in the mood to spend some money and the store was playing said CD (rather loudly, it has to be said). I particularly liked a couple of the tracks and had decided to buy it when I heard Soul II Soul's Back To Life mixed with something or other. I suppose looking back this was the trigger. When you remember a song the first time round you know you're not hip and down with the youngsters. Anyway. I wandered aimlessly round the store for a while, searching for things that needed to come home with me before deciding to call it a day and pay. I stood in the queue listening to the rather loud CD before it suddenly dawned on me that I'd rather stick pins in my eyes than voluntarily listen to any more of its repetitive doof doof doofing. I hastily shoved it onto a nearby shelf and left with just the DVD. The next shop was playing Wet Wet Wet and I found myself wondering why they didn't make music like that anymore. Probably because it's not still 1982, I suppose. Although looking at some of the fashions the kiddies are wearing you'd think it was. And don't policeman look young?

The feeling got steadily worse as I ambled round the shopping centre. I found myself tut tutting at a young woman who was wearing a top with a circle cut out, displaying her rather ample cleavage. And yesterday I stopped dead in my tracks when I told my friends children to stop running round inside the house. It was a lovely day, I informed them, and they should get outside and not waste it. Where the hell did that come from?

My eyesight is getting worse. I really need glasses and hold everything at arms length but I'm in denial. I'm sitting here listening to Ella Fitzgerald instead of an edgy, trendy young muso. I like to go to bed no later than 10.30pm. I can't drink as much as I used to. I turn the sound down on the TV when I'm on the telephone. I hate most people under the age of 20.

Is this it? Am I now an old lady? Should I start looking for a place in a retirement village?

On the other hand........it's true that I feel a lot more comfortable in myself than I did when I was in my twenties. I'm still hotheaded and badtempered but the outbursts are less frequent these days. I couldn't give a monkeys if Friday night sees me at home with the remote control, a beer, pizza and sporting tracksuit bottoms instead of being all dolled up in CBD bar/meat market. I don't care that I came home and downloaded Wet Wet Wet tunes from Limewire and I'm not in the least bit interested in watching Big Brother. Failing eyesight means I won't be able to see the lines that are creeping up around my eyes. It's not all that bad, this slippery slide towards old age.

Now, does anyone know where I left that packet of Werthers Originals?


PS. Ambridge fan of Chelmsford, you're excused. As always.