HOW TO BE 60, Pt 2 : THE LYCRA YEARS

You're wondering whether it is better to wear fluorescent yellow or electric blue socks with your new red shoes. You may already be sixty. Sixty is largely about socks. No really.  And I hear you asking "Dude. I'm sixty. How do I do this thing ?" First, stop calling me Dude. We've talked about this before. And lose the ponytail. You may wear a ponytail only if you are a 19 yr old barista, or a Native American who either runs a casino or writes deeply spiritual poetry or ideally, both.

Now, cheer up. On the bright side, you've actually managed to get to sixty. Here are some famous and accomplished people who never made sixty : Alexander the Great, Jesus, Justin Bieber. I know it seems a little early to make that call about Justin Bieber, but trust me he'll never make it. I have a plan. Which brings me to my next point:  although it makes an enormous amount of sense from a tidying-up-the-gene-pool-by-getting-rid-of-the-slow-and-the-weak point of view, there is no, I repeat no open season on people under twenty-five. I know you want there to be, and hey, I want there to be, but there is simply no time of the year when it is legal to kill people under twenty-five. Even with a crossbow. Or a longbow. Put it down now. Go and buy a danish leather recliner. Try to stop at just one. You may be surprised how hard that is. I have one in the garage, one in the hall, and I'm trying to get one fitted to the car.

I'm sorry I digress. Let us talk about fear. Almost all of us at this age wake in a cold sweat at the prospect of waking one morning clad in sponsor-infested Lycra with twenty thousand dollars missing from the bank account and nothing to show for it except a carbon fibre bicycle with two hundred gears and a coupon for ten free coffees at some evil cafe perched on top of a mountain where you can meet with other victims and gloat about your reduced chances of heart disease and compare testicles. Sadly, for some this fate is unavoidable. You may however want to give this a crack:

Try on some Lycra. Put your glasses (and all the lights) on. Find a full length mirror and stand in front of it. Meditate for five minutes on the prevalence of male circumcision in the 1950's.  Asks yourself if this is how you want the world to see you. I'm not promising anything but it's worth a shot.

Remember, your sixties can be a wonderfully expansive and productive time full of laughter and wisdom and hours of going through Wikipedia editing out references to cultures which kill the old and useless. In general though you will find it is dangerous time when you have to watch out for ridiculous and diversionary impulses. You may want to get your upper thighs tattooed with the major characters from Wagner's Gotterdammerung. You may wish to grow waist-length dreads &  run away with a hippie woman called Sandalwood who will call you Bacchus Love God and make you lentil porridge. You may be seized with an apparently irresistible desire to set up a ministry among meerkats and have them worship you and think of you as a god. You may feel a burning need to cash in your super and buy a Porsche Boxter. You may try to convince your doctor there really is such a thing as table-tennis elbow. You may want to buy tight pants and pointy toed shoes and grow a hipster beard. YOU MUST DO NONE OF THESE THINGS YOU DEMENTED OLD FOOL.

Make a cup of tea. Sit down. Repeat after me "Antiques Roadshow is really quite good isn't it". Remember you have a medical team roughly the same size as that of The President of the United States. Remember you tried on a rainbow-coloured jumper once at a market and you looked really daft. You're not as young as you used to be. Would you like a biscuit ? I'll just shut up now shall I ?

And somewhere out there is a man saying "Enough of this intense philosophical discourse. I just want to know where I can buy a decent garter to hold up my knee socks" You sir are totally sixty, and probably have been for some time. There is nothing I can teach you. Carry on.