A thud on the doormat

A view of a letterbox from floor level to suggest a thud on the doormat.

Seven years ago today, I wrote a post about not feeling as young as I once did. It started with a magazine landing with a thud on the doormat. I’ve written a couple of other posts about age since then, but this one is the official sequel.

There are a couple of reasons for this. It’s always cool for sequels to debut on anniversaries of their predecessors. Also, this post is inspired by something else landing with a thud on the doormat.

The item in question was an unsolicited catalogue for products including mobility scooters. I sincerely hope I only got it as my town has a higher-than-average percentage of pensioners, but nobody else I know got the same mailing. Hmmm.

Obviously, I’m not ready to join the ranks of older people who think that these things are very small cars just yet. But it did remind me that I’m feeling a hell of a lot older all of a sudden.

When I wrote my original post, I speculated that I might eventually emerge from my permanent state of tiredness. Well, I’m still waiting. I’m into my eighth solid year of sleep deprivation and am fairly convinced that it will stretch to a decade.

Admittedly, this is because we’ve had two more children since then, but I never imagined that it would take four years for the middle one to sleep through the night. And yes, this was just in time for the arrival of the youngest.

I’m spending more time in the garden – albeit reluctantly – don’t understand many of the things my sons find funny and am physically incapable of performing the floss.

Elsewhere, I ache even more after five-a-side, have started holding things at arm’s length to read them and, only last week, got really quite grumpy when the council didn’t empty our bin.

Then there’s the fact that I’m going to be 40 next year. I still have my 39th birthday to come, but am already obsessing about being over the proverbial hill. It’s always in the back of my mind. Partly because I’m feeling older and partly because my sons take great delight in reminding me.

With all this in mind, I’ve decided that I need to do things in a desperate bid to try and feel young again. Lots of things. 40 of them, in fact.

And I’m going to try and arrange to do them all between my 39th and 40th birthdays. It’ll either have the desired effect or the complete reverse. And I’ll end up landing with a thud on the doormat.

Do you have any suggestions for activities I can try?


  1. Nige

    This made me chuckle especially the bins I remember once chasing the bin truck down the road shouting you haven’t emptied mine but I am a bit older than you mate. Age is just number they say what a load of bollocks I ache in places I didn’t think possible. If it’s any consolation they say 40 is the new 30 but that’s because everybody is living to 100 nowadays. Oh yes! My kids love reminding me of my age little shits! Haha!

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