5th September 2008

This getting older thing - you notice it every time you look in the mirror in the morning. Was that frown-line there yesterday? We try to counter it here in France by mixing with people our own age - preferably a little bit older. That way, we always seem young to them. Luckily, the emigration wave that brought us to la belle France also brought other young-retired people - those who, like us, had reached that 'fork' in the tree of life and decided to do something about it before it was too late. Age is such a comparative thing: at school that teacher of 24 seemed positively ancient, and during those crazy rebellion years of the '60s, people of our parents' age were in their veritable dotage. But now, here we are - in our dotage ourselves (but do we actually believe it?). There's an old Russian story. A well-known Prince used to frequent a famous billiards' club in Petersburg, where the old members were called shlyupiks. The word meant a hard-boiled egg that was wuzzy around the edges from being rolled hither and thither. The old club members were therefore called shlyupiks because, like the egg, they kept rolling into the club, a bit tattered and torn. Well, one day the Prince arrived, feeling young and spritely, and asked Vasily the doorman: 'Are there any shlyupiks here? Vasily replies: 'Well, yes, you're the third one!' So, the moral of the story is: we get older every day, but don't always realise it. Keep young in spirit anyway and enjoy your life.