Death

I’ve been thinking a lot about death recently. Not quite as grim as it may sound, but not exactly uplifting, I know.

It’s what happens when your Dad has a brain tumour that just won’t go away and you have a godmother who, according to some people, is not going to last much longer.

I suppose it has something to do with my age. You hear a lot about people in their mid-30s starting to experience older relatives.

Inevitably, this is what seems to be happening to me.

Admittedly, I could be writing a year from now and both of those people will be still be alive and kicking – and god knows how I hope that’s the case.

Anyway, back to death specifically. People have different perspectives at different times of their life. I know there was a small window when I was incredibly fearful of it.

And, to be honest, having young children does give me a little shiver, but I know that if I went tomorrow then I wouldn’t be devastated.

When it is time to go, there’s not a lot you can do about it, is there? Sure you can fight it sometimes, but if your number rises to the surface, then why keep forcing it back down?

I often dream about standing up giving the eulogy at people’s funerals. OK, so I haven’t dreamt my own yet, but it’s actually pretty comforting. It gets you used to the idea and hopefully means you’re less likely to be distraught when it truly happens.

I suppose going is worst for those left behind. All I want people to know is that I loved them and that it’s time to party and not be sad. Simple, really.

Why I just don’t get trainers

Orange trainerEven though I’m a bloke, there are some typical blokey things I just don’t get.

I hate watching football in the pub, even though I’m a huge sports fan. It just doesn’t move me at all.

Cars a total mystery to me – as far as I’m concerned they’re a means to an end that get you from A to B.

And of all the male obsessions that I don’t understand is that of trainers.

I don’t mean trainers in a running round the park/gym sense, I’m talking about ‘fashion’ trainers. They’re the ones that aren’t white with a couple of flashes down them that people wear because they’re, ahem, cool.

No, they’re not! They’re an item of footwear that are designed for doing exercise in.

To my mind, making trainers ‘designer’ and ‘fashiony’ is akin to someone deciding that silk blouses would be a really good thing to wear if you wanted to run a marathon. You get my point?

The thing is, I really like shoes. I own around 15 pairs, which for a bloke is quite a lot. And I wear all of them.

Do I own any trainers? Yes, I have one pair of cross-trainers that are good for exercise classes and in the gym, and I have a pair of running shoes that I wear when I, very occasionally, go for a run.

Neither of these could remotely be construed as cool, fashionable and look good accompanied by a pair of blue jeans.

And the thing about trainers is that some people keep them in the box and never put them on. What? You spend £100 on a pair of ‘shoes’ and never wear them?

For god’s sake men, buy a pair of boots or something. They’ll probably last longer, even if you do wear them every day!

You know you’re getting old when… Part 4: Glasvegas

GlasvegasI was sitting at my desk last week when my much younger work colleague Charlotte came back from lunch in a state of high excitement.

‘Omigod!’ she squealed. ‘I’ve just seen Glasvegas in the canteen!’

My immediate reaction was ‘Glaswho?’ And then I quickly realised that I am yet again losing touch with modern popular culture.

Glasvegas for all you other suitably wizened readers are a popular Scottish beat combo who are rather cool and hip with the young music-listening fraternity.

Naturally, since I heard the name Glasvegas I have seen them everywhere – albums reviewed in newspapers, referenced on TV, posters… still haven’t heard their music, though, and I would NEVER be able to recognise them if they sat next to me in the staff canteen!