How old are you?

I had the most excellent response to a blog post I wrote last week about getting older. So today, I thought we should revisit something I wrote about recently, about getting MUCH older. Bugger these 40’s and 50’s bullshit. What the hell will I be like in retirement? Read on…

This week I read the dullest article on growing old gracefully. It suggested that I find a purpose, develop my inner life, and simplify everything. Discover my own rhythm. But the last line was the kicker.

So lean back, lean in, reach up, lie down and most of all love yourself where you are.

AND IT WAS NOT WRITTEN BY MIRANDA KERR. Although it very well could have been. Waffle-esque in its highest form. It made me really dread getting older. But that is not the case for all.

In the space of one week, my father retired from work and my stepmother turned 60. On the day my Stepmother turned 60, the first thing she did was to jump on the computer and apply for her Seniors Card.

Having spent a decade watching her husband take advantage of shopping and travel discounts that one can have with joining the sexagenarian club, she could not be more delighted with her new social status.

Now with both of them armed, yet not so dangerous, they are looking forward to years of getting around and doing things and taking advantage of the progressiveness of this club.

People whine and whine about getting older, but as far as I can see, the only thing to fear is, the fear of aging itself. For it was Bob Monkhouse who said, “Growing old is compulsory. Growing up is optional.”

Never a truer word was spoken when it comes to 77-year-old Jean Woods, who became Gaps oldest employer. Following the death of her husband, Jean became experimenting with fashion and has become somewhat of a modern day style icon. Jean says, “If it shows older people that life is there for the grabbing and that you have to take that plunge, then I will be happy.”

Living life along a similar vein is my very own Aunty Pat, who at 86, despises the thought of hanging around waiting to die. It is very hard to catch up with Aunty Pat as she has a very full schedule. You will find her boot-scooting, in the city at the Tattersall’s Club, doing Yoga, volunteering at the nursing home, working in her local St Vincent De Paul, or praying alongside her mates at the local church.


She always matches everything. Lips, nails, outfits. The works. Aunty Pat’s life motto is, Get up. Get Dressed and Get Out!

Age is something that doesn’t matter, unless you are a bottle of milk. I for one have it all planned out. In my twilight years, my goals will be:

• STEAL EVERYTHING. Into the bottle shop, stashing a box of wine into that terrific shopping cart on wheels. That baby was MADE for smuggling out stuff. Stull like bags of jellybeans, a bright new lipstick or perhaps a packet of Caramel Crowns. Not of this digestive biscuit and tinned peaches bullshit.

• Become an expert bingo player, with 6 cards at the ready.

• Always order the creamy pasta dish.

• Have an affair with a hot 55 year old, with me calling all the shots.

• Partake in Mardi Gras Annually. Become a Marriage Celebrant so I can marry all the gay couples I want.

• Be completely rude to stupid people. To their faces.

• Stalk and harass an elderly and feeble Tony Abbott.

• Protest against Prime Minister Bindi Erwin.

When I get totally too much to bear and nobody can stand me, and I am carted off an aged care facility for being obnoxious?

• Appear to be dead every morning in the nursing home and then, when people realize that I might have passed over, rise like a zombie, lick my lips and stammer BBLLOOOODDDDD…. BBRRAAAIINNNSSS

• Ignore all and every rule of the institution.

• Instigate Bikini Friday!

• Make my kids feed me, bathe me, pluck my beard and change my nappy. Because payback is a bitch.

• Spread really bad rumors about the management on Twitter.

I plan to grow old disgracefully. By the time you are 84.2 years of age, all bets are off. Your number is racing up to meet you and you need to get all your living out. For it was Ross Noble who said, “The older you get, the better you get. Unless you are a Banana.”

May I be so rude to ask, how old are you?

I would love to know who the oldest WoogsWorld reader is!

And while we are at it, the youngest!