I read something the other day which implied old people were stuck in the last century, it made me ask the question, ‘Am I stuck in the 20th century?’ unlike the two ladies above, who, probably, not only hailed the pill as being the best thing since sliced bread, but Viagra also – and what would we ladies do without it? Viagra, that is: I can do without sliced bread. But going back to my original question, I do appear to be stuck in a certain era as my novels have been set in the mid 80’s: the 60’s, and the 40’s, so, it doesn’t take an Einstein to realise my novels border on ‘historical’.
Why? I suppose, it’s because I was born in the middle of a century where writers and playwrights were only just beginning to produce realistic prose and plays for the first time. Also a time when women took a giant leap, along with technology. But I didn’t actually burn my bra whilst partaking in free love – that could have been a tad dangerous – singe more than my hair.
Women are much more liberated these days, unlike those actresses in the 60’s films who mainly portrayed married women as ‘housewives’, which led me to believe – and I blame Doris Day for this – that when reaching the marrying age of 21, every woman had a pinafore surgically attached to her chest, and a constant smile glued to her face as she bent over the washing machine: and not just for Hubby’s pleasure. If that was the ‘woman’s lot’, then I thought, ‘Sod that for a game of soldiers’. When I did marry, it was to a man who never had his dinner on the table as soon as he got home from work, as I was usually still at work, and he certainly didn’t have his slippers warmed.
As for old age being one of the symptoms of being stuck in the past, I an erring towards agreeing with it. We, of a certain age, have such a lot of experience to look back on. But I’ve not quite got to the point yet, while standing at a bus stop and some young guy asks, ‘Show us your boobs,’ I pull up my skirt: or, when I get hot flushes whilst sitting over my desk, I find one of them hanging in my mug of tea.
Blogging about growing old is fun, and when one reaches a certain age you can get away with anything. But between the other day and today, when I asked myself that question, I thought, perhaps, I should up this ‘old-age’ stage a notch: lead my kids and grandkids to think I’ve finally lost it by playing quoits with Hubby in the living room. Oh, the sight of it would scar them for life. 🙂
See you all in the New Year. Have a very merry Xmas. ‘Hasta la vista, I’ll be back.’ And that’s a promise.