I turned 59 at the weekend. One year to go until I hit the Big 60 – bring it on! Actually I almost wish I were sixty this year; whether it is 39, 49 or 59, it’s a year of waiting for a milestone birthday, the one with the nought on the end, the one that gets royally celebrated.
My next nought heralds concessionary rates at the cinema, free prescriptions (and believe me when I say that’s worth a bob or two) and cheaper public transport – and I’m not being ironic when I say that I can’t wait! Paradoxically I am too young for my state pension, free bus pass and winter fuel allowance as the government – in their wisdom – whipped those benefits away from my age group when they raised the retirement age for women [see Working ‘Til We Drop…]! That said, I have embarked on Operation Sixty – my plan to get fitter, healthier and feel better about myself before the big day. Turning sixty is inevitable but I plan to own it!
Unfortunately Mother Nature did her best to spoil the day and I spent this particular birthday stranded a top a Spanish mountain (www.notesfromgaucin.com) in a storm – celebrations cancelled – watching as the roads turn to rivers, thunder so close it makes the doors shake. But despite the birthday washout, in a week where I learnt of a good friend’s bad news I have so much to be thankful for.