“You know how I know you’re 40”?
“You say the same shit over and over again”!
Some people say 40 is the new 20, or that 40 is the new 30.
Unfortunately, as far as I’m concerned, 40 is just 40, and no amount of figurative window-dressing is going to change that!
Don’t get me wrong, I certainly don’t feel like a person who will, next week, enter his fifth decade on this earth. For instance, I still feel cool and hip, keeping up to date with what’s goin’ dowwwn in the world of entertainment. This is despite the fact that, instead of making me feel all hanky-panky, the recent performances of some of the younger singers just make me want to give them a parental spanky! Continue reading
If you are a keen runner and you live in Sydney, it is very likely that there is a recurring appointment on your calendar every August. Judging by the record 83,415 people who particpated last Sunday, the appointment appears be on the calendars of even those who don’t live in Sydney.
That’s me right there, in the white cap!
I am, of course, referring to City-to-Surf, an annual 14km fun run which starts from the middle of the Central Business District and ends at the world-famous Bondi Beach, with some breathtaking habour and ocean scenery along the way.
For me, however, “Fun run” is such a misnomer when it comes to describing this event. Continue reading
When my wife, P, was 21 years old, an incident happened at a nightclub over which she sulked for quite some time. We were with a bunch of friends, ready to enter the establishment for a night of fun, when the bouncer asked for proof of age from each and every one of our entourage. This led to a round of bashful giggles, especially among the female members of our group, who were all well over the 18 age limit.
The bouncer was paying real detailed attention to every single driver’s license,
Why, thank you for asking!
occasionally fixing his gaze on its bearer, just to make sure, say, a Vanessa Vukadinovic on the card wasn’t accompanied by a Vanessa Chen in person, or a Jamal Mutombo on the photo wasn’t being carried by someone who looks more like Johan Johansson. When it was finally P’s turn, instead of asking for her ID, the bouncer just said: “Straight through, please. Enjoy“. Continue reading
While still some months away, the impending arrival of my 40th birthday is really wreaking some
Thinking about the big Four-O
havoc in my mind these days. It is prompting some strange introspection, especially during those long runs when there is nothing but wind at my back, sweat on my brow and a sympathetic ear in my head.
On the one hand, I am grateful for the many blessings in my life. Indeed, whenever I pound one foot in front of another along an often picturesque running path (whether in rain, hail or sunshine), I often wonder how many men/women would give their right nut/(insert whatever is appropriate for female) to be in my position – one that is filled with good health, great kids and an irreplaceable soul mate, all surrounded by a supportive network. Continue reading
I do it all the time!
A couple of days ago, I was filling out an online entry form for a fun run to be held in September this year. Name, gender, date of birth, address, who should we call if you heart stops beating or you trip over and crack your head wide open.Frustratingly, I kept on getting stuck on one question, one that asks to what age group do I belong. I must have clicked on the 30-39 bracket 4 or 5 times. Each time, the god-damned website returned with the message: “Please check your answer before proceeding to the next question“.
Just before I was about to fire off an irate email to the race organisers, telling them in no uncertain terms to fix their bug-ridden online entry form, I decided to read the question one more time, and this time with care. And the words were:
Click on the age bracket you will belong to, at the time of this race (my emphasis).