You own a nose hair trimmer. 

If you don’t have one yet then you probably haven’t noticed those furry forests standing proud in each ear. Not to mention those straggly tentacles rippling gently every time you breathe out through your nose. It’s nose hair dude, how the hell did you not notice that? It’s front and centre for crap sake! Right under your nose, literally. OK so it’s a slow build and didn’t just explode overnight, but even if you never noticed it before, you can be absolutely guaranteed that everybody else has; certainly every woman has. If you wonder why no-one looks you in the eye when they talk to you, and stare at a point vaguely below……buy a frickin’ nose hair trimmer. Who cares that this inexplicable phenomena strikes just when everything else is starting to fail. It is what it is, just accept it and trim!

You have a special stick just for stirring paint.

I used to laugh at my old man for this. But I gotta say that I totally get it now. It makes perfect sense and it’s such a time saver. Why waste time scratching around for something robust enough to stir the contents of a new tin when you can have a specific stick just for the job. It’s weird how this logic somehow escaped me in my younger years. But hey, it is what it is, and I have my stick.

You actually read instructions before assembly.

This is another one of those crazy things that when you look back you wonder why on earth this piece of common sense escaped you for so long. Of course you don’t know how to assemble that flat pack furniture. You’ve never done it before so why would you even assume that it’s your superpower, and that instructions are just some waste of paper. It’s not like the manufacturers are personally insulting you by inferring that you are any less manly because you need guidance. I get that youngsters don’t like being told what to do, and the very word ‘instruct’ sounds like a command. But the hours I committed to the futile attempts at unguided construction, simply out of sheer pride. I wish I could get them back now. Mind you, the advent of technology has given me something else to moan about. Now you get online instructions rather than a handy little pamphlet in 76 languages. That’s just a pain in the arse!

You start a sentence with “In my day.”

Is there any other phrase that summons up the reflex action of an eye-roll than this. It’s one of those ‘I know better because I’m older’ kind of sentences that guarantees that no-ones going to pay any attention whatever nugget you try to bestow.

You cling to the fantasy that things were better ‘in your day’.

Every day is somebody’s ‘day’. They are going to form some nostalgic, and inaccurate view that their day was somehow magically better than every other time in history simply because they happened to be around. We all do it, and to be frank, it keeps you anchored to the past. Cherish your memories and reminisce to your hearts content, but don’t ignore the great stuff that happens today, because in many ways it’ll be better than it was back in your day. Embrace today, keep an open mind, and maybe the present will surprise you.

You buy multiple items.

You know what I’m talking about here. It’s when something is you damn comfy, or just so right, that you figure you may as well stock up while you can. I do this with jeans. We all have that sweet spot when it comes to the width of the bottom of our pants. Fashion changes for the shear hell of it, and directed for the most part at youngsters. First they experienced the ‘boot-cut’, and at the time of writing this, ‘skinny jeans’ bordering on tights are the flavour of the day. It’s got to the point that when fashion passes through your comfort zone, you have to dust of that wallet and fork out while you can, buying multiple pairs so you know you’re stocked up enough to survive the next sartorial drought.

You can’t remember the last day you were pain free.

Or maybe it’s just me? I swear if I have a day where it’s just one body part that’s giving me gripe, then it’s a good flippin’ day. In fairness I do tend to give my old bod somewhat of a battering, but that said, a little research with my peers and friends has shown that it certainly takes that bit longer to shake off an injury or a tweak. Longer than it used to and that’s for sure. Note to self, take it easy (as if).

You stopped listening to ‘authority figures’.

Age gives you that confidence that you know your own mind. Stuff what the experts say. Who made them experts anyway? Just another bunch of people who share the same opinion, that’s who. When you’ve been around long enough, you figure out what works for you, and no-one is damn well going to sell you that snake oil equivalent. I’ve rarely met a doctor who’s in shape, and politicians always have an agenda. In fact when you scratch below the surface, almost everyone has an angle, whether it’s based upon commerce, compliance, or control. OK so I’ve always had a slight inclination to go my own way. I’ll tell you what though, it’s gotten a whole lot worse with age, and I love it.

Half the people you know can’t imagine you with hair.

Feel free to skip this one if you’re still rockin’ a full head of hair, and get to listen to Tracey at the Barber shop regale you with her holiday plans every other week (you lucky swine). For me I noticed I wasn’t going to make it beyond forty with a full head of hair, so shaved it off overnight. Beyond devastated at first, then I thought ‘stuff this’ and shaved it all off in one go. Now I’ve been without hair for so long that hardly anyone I know these days has ever seen me any other way. It’s the kind of look that gets better with age, and I have been told I do have a wonderfully round dome, so that’s a stroke of luck. But when all’s said and done, and you can barely remember yourself when you had hair, let alone anyone else, you know your an old bugger.

Habits have become rituals.
This is a mention to all those things that you’ve done for so long, that you simply couldn’t face the thought of doing any other way. You like how you do things a certain way and nothing on this earth is going to sway you from that path of ultimate comfort. You know when you’ve been a creature of habit for so long that the actual thought of change causes anxiety. If you ask me, a touch of chaos in one’s life can be invigorating. Shake things up once in a way to avoid becoming that stale old fart that can’t be taught new tricks. There really isn’t that much in life that so precious that it can’t survive a modicum of variety once in a while, so live dangerously!

You get a shock when you look in the mirror.

It’s as if your mind never kept up with your body. Inside you’re still bursting with mischief, and then this wrinkled version of you stares back and you realise that you really are one immature old fart. This is when the whole ageing thing really hits home. My advise, avoid mirrors under harsh light, or altogether. Who cares if you leave the house with toothpaste still on your chin, mirrors are killjoys, and I prefer to live with the fantasy that nothing’s changed. Deluded? Definitely. Happy? You bet!

Time moves faster.

This is a real thing. It exists within physics. Time literally speeds up the older you get, and you suddenly find yourself scribbling down bucket lists full of crap you never ever wanted to do, but now feel as though life would be somehow incomplete unless you cram ’em in before you croak. Weird!

You can’t wait to be a bad Grandpa.

I love this one. Having taken so much pride in raising your offspring in the best, most responsible way you knew how; you now relish the opportunity to set a bad example to your grand-kids and be a mischievous old coot. It’s one of the last rights of passage left open at this point in your life, and surely it’s expected?