Pat Allchorne on The Joys of Ageing

Yes, you read that correctly!  If I had £1 for every time I heard someone say: “don’t get old”, I’d be rich – and that’s one of the things that actually doesn’t matter. OK, maybe it’s easy for me to say that; I’m not rich by any stretch of the imagination, but I have enough, and that is enough. 

Along with that:

It matters less what people think of me. I would love everyone to like me, but the days of trying to be all things to all people are long gone. It’s exhausting, and I just need to be me. I hope you like me, but if you don’t I can’t change to suit your perception of what or who I should be. I try to be nice to people, try to be kind and helpful, try not to upset anyone.

Joy is found in simple things: family, friends, rainbows, sunsets, birdsong, trees, rivers, flowers, bees buzzing in the garden, an unexpected message or letter, starting a fresh book, a blank sheet of paper waiting for my ideas to burgeon.

Waking up each morning – a joy in itself – and wondering what the day will bring. As one gets older, every day is a gift to be treasured, and is exciting in its unknowingness.

The joy of having a roof over my head and enough to eat. Yes, there are things I wish for, but if I never get them it won’t be a tragedy. I like my life, and anything extra is a bonus.

Singing. Joy, joy, joy. It has got me through some really difficult circumstances over the last few years. Someone said to once that it is impossible to feel sad when singing. It certainly focusses the mind, putting whatever else is going on in your life in the shade for a while. I wish I’d had the opportunity and the courage to do it years ago.

The realisation of what really matters in life. Every day is a gift, and while I do treasure things (mostly what other people have bought me), it is the knowledge that one is loved that really matters.

The knowledge that the nearer death is, the less scary it becomes. OK, I have a massive plus point here; I am a Christian, so death is not something to be feared, but I have to admit to feeling slightly apprehensive about the process of dying. We would all, by choice, have an easy death, painless and trouble-free, but much as I would like to live as long as possible (my dad was six weeks short of his 94th birthday when he died), I do not fear death. What is awaiting me afterwards is going to be so amazing.

Experience. You never realise what you have learned until someone asks your advice and you find yourself speaking words of wisdom and thinking “where did that come from?” You wish you’d known so much when you were younger, but life takes its time teaching its lessons.

Tolerance. Everyone is going through or has gone through something. We can’t judge what we don’t know. Unless we can walk in someone else’s shoes we can have no idea what they are going through or how it is affecting them. Be kind to those you meet.

It is fine to sit and do nothing or do very little. The world will not stop if you take time out for yourself, and you will be more refreshed to do whatever else is demanded of you that day. Smell more roses, pick more daisies, watch more sunsets, cuddle more cats.

The absence of the need to prove oneself. I am far from perfect, and I do try to do better, but I am content generally with who I am. If I do feel the need to improve, it is for my sake alone, not to impress others.

The realisation that people are just people. Fame and fortune do not impress, those less fortunate than me are not to be looked down on. Each is special to God, not for what they have or for what they do, but because he created them. Who am I to think any differently?

Looking back and realising that what seemed like a major disaster at the time was just a blip. We all have times we would rather not have gone through, but we survived, very often because of the love of our friends and family who didn’t give up on us. Everything we have experienced has made us what we are today; hopefully we have taken on board the good and learned from the bad.