It's no good. I'm having to come to terms with an uncomfortable truth. Over the past week or so it has been increasingly apparent that I am now officially a grumpy old man. If I'm honest the signs have been there for some months now. The irritable shouting at the radio in the mornings, especially, as it happens, when the secretary of state for health is on, the mumbled commentary to the evening news, the irrascible scrabbling for the mute button when that bloody irritating lloyds TSB ad with the wrethched squeaky singing comes on. You know, little things like that.
Last night I hit a new low when I found myself agreeing with the wise words of David Milliband. Lets face it, he's a politician, in opposition, so of course he's going to say that Health Services ought to be run by Health Professionals and not Politicians. After all, isn't that what Tone and his cronies were saying eleven or so years back. And there was me in the car on the ride home nodding like the Churchill Dog as Mr M intoned his pearls of wisdom to whichever interviewer it was putting him to the question. What was I thinking?
Then today, en route to Tesco Express for a quick sarnie after the lunch-time visits, what should I espy but a bunch of thirteen year old herberts larking about in the car park. Why aren't the little blighters in school I thought, completely ignoring the fact that our own offspring are off with rel's for the Half Term holiday. D'oh!
Last week some diminutive pink, bobble hatted pixie snowballed me as I was coming out of another home visit, and it was all I could do to prevent myself from upending the offending moppet into a nearby snowdrift in retribution. Then there was the traffic on the way home last Friday. Honestly. Three measly inches of the wettest, saddest snow ever, and gridlock ensued. Three bleeping hours to do a forty minute journey I ask you!!!
Look!!! Now I'm even doing multiple exclamation marks, and I HATE multiple exclamation marks !!!!
But the thing that really brought home to me just how grumpy and down right grown up I've suddenly become was the reaction to that first snowfall last Thursday morning. Instead of the unrestrained glee of the junior members of the household, or even the wistful "winter wonderlandishness" of my better half, all I could muster was a miserale moan about the state of the roads.
Bah, Humbug!
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11 comments:
Dr J!
You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. You have simply become a proponent of generativity, seeking only to advise and promote maturity in the rising generations - whether they want it or not.
The only danger you must guard against is being drawn to the Daily Mail. Even a cursory glance at it's headlines [ my only contact ]in the supermarket or news agent will result in your morphing into the final phase of humanity -an old git.
Trust me when I warn you that there is NO way out from there.
I have been attending a self help group for several years now but I have not been able to regain my previous levels of sensibility, despite total abstinence from the rag, so pernicious is it's effects on the normal human systems. Apprently it is easier to cure Lime's disease than be un-Mailed.
regards
Nostrumdammit
Don't worry, either of you. It's the first sorry sign of middle age, true, but it wears off. By the time you reach my advanced years you will be sweetly tolerant and happily patient.
I can even laugh at the Daily Mail.
Myself, I eschew multiple exclamation marks, except in the spirit of JonnyB, but I enjoy multiple xs
xx(x) - like this
This isn't looking good. This time we have Grumpy. Last time we had Dr Killjoy. The time before we had Gloom and Despondency. What do we have to do to cheer you up? Maybe when spring comes, it will help.
I wanted to make a snow angel because we'd never heard of them over here - but I couldn't on account of how wet I'd get in the snow.
*bah humbug*
We get older, we get wiser, we get sensible yuk!
I remember one occasion back in the wayward 80's after a Summer's evening spent discussing pharmaceutical nonsenses at a symposium, that as myself and two other colleagues were wending our port navigated ways home we encountered large heaps of fresh grass cuttings and made grass angels.
On reflection it was puerile, but rather fun in that velvety air of the glowering dusk.
Pity about the urticaria and the lady of the house also objected to the grass stains on the sleeves of my linen mix cardigan.
I have waves of Grinchiness for which I am deeply remorseful.
Do you think that people in Brazil grinch or become grumpy? Is it possible that this is the inevitable effect of years without sunshine and that we would all acquire Buddha-like serenity in a warm place where people spontaneously Salsa in cafes, squares and even in the slum areas?
Regards - Shinga
See, now don't you feel better for that?
nostrum-- Hmm. the only good thing ever to come out of the Daily Mail was the Peanuts Cartoon. Not sure if they still do them, what with Mr Schultz now departed. Not sure I want to find out either, so no worries there then. Also, not at all sure I like the concept of a Grass Angel. Sounds distinctly shady somehow...
z-- I look forward to such a state of grace in eager anticipation. xx
anon-- Somehow I wouldn't bank on it :-(
sooz-- At the risk of sounding a bit Mae West, "Slush Angels" don't sound all that appealing do they. Humbug indeed! (Phew, just the one this time!! Oh Bum!)
shinga-- I'm told even the Brazillians can occasionally wax grinchy ;-)
Angry-- strangely not :-(
Yup.....sounds like it's happening. I've been a member of the club for a while now too.
Welcome to the ranks of the curmudgeonly.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: I am quite clearly a grumpy old man.
This is rather strange considering my chronological age of 26 and my apparently female phenotype.
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