SHOWING MY AGE!

[Karan]:  Our daughter, Mia (aged 7), thinks dinosaurs roamed the earth when I was at school, and once asked me what we used before cars were invented, when I was little.  I kid you not.  It's a bloody good job you can't sell kids on eBay, is all I can say!  Cheeky little Minx.

I am keen to point out that I wasn't born in the Mesozoic, or any other prehistoric era for that matter, but I am a child of the 1970's; which is feeling more and more like the Mesozoic era the older I get.  To make matters worse, I saw an online article recently celebrating all the "must have" toys of my bygone age, and Mia took pity on me as though I was neglected as a child or something.  What I have tried to explain to Mia is that SIMON was our version of her Nintendo DS, and I was thrilled when I got it for Christmas in 1978: my parents may have lived to regret their repetitively noisy present choice, but I most certainly didn't.

Another of my all time greatest presents was the Stylophone.  Now, as a mother of two rampant and rambunctious children, I can only assume that my parents were clinically insane to have given this to me in 1976 - what were they thinking?!  Have you heard the God awful noise this contraption creates?  For those of you denied the special privilege of having heard the special tunes created by a tame Stylophone, I can only describe it as sounding like a bag of cats being slammed against a wall.  But I loved it as it allowed me to be "creative" - along with my banging wooden spoons on pots, pans and my brother!

My deepest regret, the one thing I always wanted but never got was the Raleigh Chopper bike, complete with a gear lever.  My friend Simon Hodge had a red one and I coveted it unashamedly, but I was bought a girlie Flyer instead (no, I hadn't heard of one until then either) - a brown one at that - BROWN?!  No nine year-old child asks for a brown bike, and you should see the groovy haircut I had at the time when photographed on said brown bike.  No, I'm not showing you.  The Raleigh Chopper was the epitome of a bike, it was the ultimate - you were somebody if you had a Chopper - everyone was your friend, mostly so they could get a ride on your bike.  I didn't get any requests to ride my brown Flyer [sniff].

May I also take this opportunity to register my utter disgust that when the Chopper was relaunched a few years ago it was sans gear lever - how could they do that?!  I know why they did that; on Health 'n' Safety grounds, but we children of the 70's survived, and there's nothing (much) wrong with us...I heard that!

My brother and I were not in the least bit neglected at Christmas, whatever Mia may think; we had great Christmas', where our parents went all out for a wonderful day, with great food, mountains of presents and our family around us.  Our parents subjected themselves to hours, days, weeks and months of Stylophonic Greensleeves, because that's what parents do at Christmas, isn't it?  It's in the children's charter that they are required, by law, to be noisy and rampant on Christmas Day, so that their parents are fraught and exhausted husks by nightfall. 

Stand by your beds fellow parents, the day is almost upon us.  This is where our own parents laugh at the memories of how we used to be, and delight in the deliciousness of karma, as our ears ring from the cacophony and our last nerve strains to hold out: I'm looking forward to it already.  Good luck people and please remember me fondly.

IT'S THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN!

[Karan]:  And no, I don't mean Christmas.  Of course it is Christmas soon, (however hard I try and deny it), but what I mean is: it's that time of year when [gasp] it snows!

It never ceases to amaze me how this country comes grinding to a standstill at the first glimpse of snow.  Already we have had news reporters dispatched to Hemel Hempstead so they can crouch in the snow to show us how deep it is.  Already three major airports have closed, with no news as to when they might re-open, whilst disappointing thousands of travellers.  I've still to hear the AA advise us only to travel if it's important, but I'm sure that little nugget is on it's way soon.  Politicians have been "braving it into Westminster" to ensure our stocks of salt are adequate to keep the country moving, whilst my TV is now covered in muesli at the nonsense of it all.

I'm now sitting here, having threaded my way carefully into work this morning because the roads are icy, and fully anticipating having to collect my daughter from school before lunch, because the current snow flurry is expected to drift and the school must close!  How in God's name do they cope in Alaska, Russia and Norway - let's find out and copy what they do, because I'm pretty sure their schools don't close, their trains still run and their airports remain open, always. 

We have a serious obsession with the weather in this country, but whatever the weather may throw at us, it leaves us bemused and often times, scuppered with the wrong kind of rainfall (!) or leaves on the line.  In summer the very same news reporters were crouching next to a melting road surface, whilst the rest of us were unable to refresh our scorched patches of earth due to a hosepipe ban.  It's the current snow that really amuses me.  If we lived in Barbados, snow would be a genuine surprise, but we don't and it shouldn't be.  Have you noticed that the phrase "global warming" is always substituted at this time of year for "climate change".  Climate change my arse, it's winter, it snows; we just all need to be grown ups and learn how to adapt better, rather than be caught out by what we know is coming.

I saw a television programme earlier this week about the snow, road gritting and the likelihood that the UK will run out of salt before spring arrives.  A comment was also made that to import the salt we need is very expensive "at this time of year".  Hmmm, okay, well what can we learn from this?  Well, in the UK it snows in winter.  We experience winter weather from November to February EVERY YEAR, so why not buy/import salt in June when it's cheaper, hello?! 

As for melting road surfaces, I'll leave that for the engineers to work out, but perhaps they could observe how the roads in Arizona and Melbourne survive their searing temperatures.  There is a solution to every problem, and we in the UK need to respond better to what happens to us, rather than react.  And can the media please stop whipping these issues into more than they really are or need to be; it's only snow: keep calm and carry on!  

That is all.

  

I SHALL WEAR PURPLE!

[Karan]:  Here we are with another May Day nearly upon us, and it'll soon be Christmas again! 

Is it just me or is time screaming past us at a rate of knots?  It doesn't help that our daughter asks me everyday how old I am - surely I'm supposed to be the one whose mind is wondering, why doesn't she remember my answer: does she enjoy seeing the grimace she extracts from me every time she asks?  The little darling even asked me recently what we used in "the olden times, before you had cars"!  Now that took my breath away, and I couldn't help but laugh; the cheeky little Minx.  I will defend our little beauty because she is only six, and has no real comprehension of age - but that defence won't wash the older she gets!

I was told on my 21st birthday - all those years ago - that time would now zip past more quickly than it had done previously for me.  In my youthful immortal arrogance however, I believe my urbane response to this sincerely given guidance was "PAH!".  I've always had a way with words.  Now staring down the barrel of my 102nd birthday, I can see the truth behind this statement.  No, I'm not really 101 - although there are many, many days I feel like it, but it is fair to say that I'm gradually being introduced to the limitations of impending middle-age. 

I've got to the stage now where if I bend down to pick something up off the floor, I ask myself what else I can be doing whilst I'm down there.  There are also the involuntary "oohs" and "aahhs" when kneeling or attempting to stand up again, because these are the things my knees need solemn notice for nowadays.  And whilst it's true that time marches on, it's only when you begin to mature a little, that you realise that it's marching all over your face: laughter lines?  Laughter lines?  Hmmm, nothing's that funny, now is it?!

I shall not be defeated.  I have adopted the attitude that it is better to grow old than die young, and it is clear that God does not consider me "good", because I'm still here at this ripe old age - must've been that rampant weekend in 1992 wot dunnit, but that's a story for another day.  Or not.  And I always have the kindly checkout lady at Tescos to fall back on when I'm feeling particularly decrepit, because she took ten years off me last Saturday; I was thrilled! 

My next big birthday will be a belter where I will behave badly and start to wear purple!  Kettering, you have less than 12 months to prepare, but you have been warned so stand well back.  It's good to be alive, whatever condition your knees are in, and we should embrace everyday as a gift to be enjoyed to the full.

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobrietry of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick flowers in other people's gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickles for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beer mats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

By Jenny Joseph