Many years back I worked as the UK and Europe leg man for a investigation and security consultancy based in America. The boss man was former FBI and was then about 75 years of age. When I visited him to debrief on any complicated matter, he would go to great lengths to tell me just how much he enjoyed his life at that age. This came from one who had had a very active working life before he left the Bureau and one would think that there was not much that would surpass that career. His experience led me to have hopes for my life after retirement.
Well, my experience to date is that he was wrong. I find little charm in advanced age - if I qualify for that now (I shall be 77 on Sunday). My arthritis and dodgy hip cause very limited physical ability. I never thought when pounding along behind an Army PTI on a bike that it would be something I'd miss but ill-health is morale-sapping.
Then there are the funny little mental quirks. I've already mentioned the sleeplessness arising from multiple streams of thought dashing around in my brain and the occasional difficulty with remembering words. I now seem to have gained a new bug.
Right after breakfast yesterday the opening words of the song 'Drinking rum and Coca Cola, working for the Yankee dollar' came into my head. And remained there ever since. I have not the slightest idea whence this came from; the tune is one where I once knew many verses of the Soldiers' version but I have not sung it - or even heard it - for many years prior to yesterday.
I have tried all sorts of things to get out of this repeated phrase or to find out what has triggered it. Gone back over my internet stuff - nothing. Way back into e-mails - nothing. Scanned the week's papers - nothing.In bed last night I tried diversions. Algebra rules - still singing those damned ten words. Recited chunks of Kipling - nothing. I dropped off to sleep early this morning with the hope it would go away when the brain relaxed. My first thought this morning was? - you guessed it.
So Bill - your words about the wonders of ageing were duff. Makes me wonder about those tales of infiltrating the Klan (but they sounded more like provocation anyway)