reflections on growing old

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This weekend found us at Mumsy's house in the village of my childhood. We went for the annual Curry Evening, a fundraiser for the charity through which I sponsor an Indian boy. I say boy, but he's fast becoming a young man. We've been going to this annual event for eight, maybe nine years? I'm not entirely sure. Each year we see the same people, and each year they look a little older, much like we do, I suspect. In most instances these are faces from my distant past, Mumsy's friends who have children my age whom I played with as a nipper. They've known me since I was a baby and thus, I've known them for my entire life and most of them back then were a lot younger than I am now. And now they're shrinking, their movements are becoming stiffer and their hair has gone a beautiful shade of silver. It's bizarre to think that these increasingly fragile-seeming people used to be younger. And it's bizarre to know that that will one day be me, and that actually I'm very nearly there. Age is a funny thing. As teenagers we think we're invincible and that adults are ridiculous, and then we become those adults and we start saying those ridiculous things like, well, when I was young ... or young people today don't know they're born ... And I have no idea where I'm going with this so I will be quiet now. In other news I have a nasty cold and feel hot. I may feel hot because it's unseasonably warm. Or it may be because I'm poorly. Either way, I shall be spreading my germs around at work today. *smile*