I'm embracing impending old age with definite aplomb. Heels are a thing of the past. It's nice, flat, sensible shoes from now on. I'd get ones with laces, only I can't bend down any more to tie them with the pain in my back. So it'll be pumps.
And then, because I'm not that tall, I'll find myself running in and out between people's legs. Fun in a kinky sort of way. But what's really bringing the whole age thing home to me is the fatigue – a continuous ennui. And that brings about all sorts of problems. I feel like lying down at social gatherings.
I was at a party up the country (that means anywhere north of Cork) the other day and an incredible feeling of insurmountable exhaustion came over me. Luckily, I was staying in the house where the party was being held, and when I went into my bedroom to get a packet of fags, I took one look at the bed and the desire for a "little lie down" overcame me.
So I threw myself down in all my finery and had started to nod off when the door burst open and quite a number of unknown people came filing in on a house tour. "That lady is asleep," one said as I feigned a deep slumber. They filed out amid a lot of giggling. When I had had my little lie down I went back out to delight everybody once again with my scintillating company and was relating this event to some of my closer friends.
One of them said: "What! She said fat lady is asleep!" The fact that she thought it was 'fat' and not 'that' was enough to put me over the edge and when old, fat tired ladies get grumpy they get violent. She's very lucky her face is still intact.