The average age of death in the UK is 82 (well, 81.92, to be exact).

So, that means, if I’m average, I might have 16 Christmases left. Obviously, I’d like more. That would be a bonus. There is, of course, always the chance I’ll have fewer… but I’ll stick with being optimistic, for now.

I have heard a disturbing number of people say “I don’t want to live well into old age — who the hell wants to be ill and frail and still here?”

Well, not many people, I imagine. But why is old age synonymous with frailty and illness? It isn’t an unavoidable given… is it?

Look, there are three kinds of old people in the Western world:

1. They are old in mind and always have been. Benjamin Franklin’s quote sums it up better than I can: “Most men die at 25, we just bury them at 75”. Exchange the word men for people, to avoid being sexist.
2. They don’t behave in an ‘old’ way, exactly — but they are stuck in the same routine, day after day. They take each day as it comes — in an apathetic rather than philosophical way. They are busy but no longer aspiring.
3. Their body has aged — but, whilst they don’t feel 20 anymore (and have no desire to do so) — they don’t feel old. Genuinely. They don’t think old. They don’t see themselves as old. Because THEY aren’t old… their body is — or, at least, it is older than it was. But they, the soul, the unique, individual shard of the collective source of all life, is not.

I believe that I fall into category number 3.

I’m still shocked when I see myself in a photo or video… and remember that I have bingo wings. And a crepey neck. And a bumbag of wobbly fat on my abdomen that won’t go away, even if I reduce my weight to 7 and a half stones (I am currently 8 and a half, and 5ft 2″). It’s here to stay.

And I regularly come across other oldies who feel exactly as I do. They aren’t done yet. They still want to be relevant. There are a million things still to be explored and experienced. So much more to learn. So much more to become. And so little time.

About me.

I am currently training toward a 2nd Dan in kickboxing (I am the oldest — and the shortest — in the class, by far).

I am still working, in a self-employed capacity.

I am still writing, keen to entertain, inform, and encourage.

I am active within the motorbiking world (which is frequented by many, many other ‘young’ oldies!).

I am a keen Formula 1 motor racing fan, having not missed a race for 18 years.

Okay, I have my scars.

One on my hip from a replacement op in 2022.

One on my left knee, from an op to remove torn cartilage, 34 years ago.

A permanent ‘smile’ above my pubic bone, courtesy of 3 Caesarean sections.

A silvery feather-shape on my chest where a fatty little lump was removed.

Oh, and my left knee resembles a risen but half-baked bread bun, thanks to arthritis. At least it makes my right knee look attractive.

My daughters don’t want to hear my thoughts on my having less and less time in this world (though that is true of all of us). They say “You have to be here forever. We can’t be without you.” My son might think it but he’d never say it. And this is one of the reasons I am determined to be here as long as I can be — as healthy and as fit as I can be. They say “You’ll never be old, Mum — that’s just not how you are”, and I understand what they’re saying. But maybe they’re wrong. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I will be old with the passing of a few more Christmases. I doubt it, but it could happen.

And I could suddenly drop dead of a heart attack. I might be run over by a bus. I could develop an incurable disease. But, in the meantime, I’m going to carry on as if none of these things will happen and keep training, writing, motorbiking, and aspiring. I will be 70 when it is time to grade for my 3rd Dan — and I intend to be there.

And, I also intend to continue planning and looking forward to the next 16-plus Christmases. They’re a big deal in my family… and they won’t be the same without me!