DOC-LEAVES

The personal web page of Dr.Dick Richards MD

Offering 5

 

Time is on our side

 

Remember  that demographic time-bomb they called the Baby  Bulge?  How could

we educate  them  all and absorb them into the workforce?  Haven't heard about it

lately.

 

What  is  increasing  now  is  the  old folk population. By 2020 two thirds of us

will be over fifty.  The new demographic  time-bomb is us, the Zimmer-frame

Brigade,.. we candidates for Age Concern. Soon  we'll  be  in  the  huge  majority.

Though looking like something  out  of  the  Dream  of Gerontius we'll have the

power again.  Time was when the old were  either  ignored  or  neglected,.. all

granny flats and 'Does she take sugar?.' But tempura mutantur,... times are

a-changing. And  boy- oh- boy  are  we going to have our own back.

 

Old age is  when  the  things  you really want to do are the sensible ones,..

despite the inconveniences. I mean, I still jump as hard as I ever did.  I  just

don't get so far off the ground,.. or for quite as long.  And  it's  not  always true

that sixty five forgets what twenty five  was  like  just because our dimples

become wrinkles and our only regular hobby is attending old friends'

funerals.

 

There'll still be sad bits,.. the man who struggles to the  top  of the ladder

then finds it  was  leaning  against the wrong wall. Some will find that the

midnight  oil  is  all  burned  up  by  9p.m.  But  think  of the consolations.

There  won't  be  enough  young people for the media to pander  to  so

nauseatingly.  The young will need all their spare money  for  motor insurance

which will be much higher than ours,.. we’ll see to that.

 

There'll be lots more wide-fitting shoes, walking  canes, Damart and

nostalgia. There'll be more melody.  Airplane  seats will be bigger.

We'll have smaller strawberries that  really  taste  like  strawberries. The Proms

will last all year. Advertisements  will  ignore  shape  and speed and emphasise

quality and function.  There'll  be far more delivery services. Bay-window bellies

and hips looking like a blancmange that has sagged in  a  loose  mould  will be the in

things. And there'll be more package tours to Lourdes.

 

Rap  music  will be totally abolished.  There'll  be no more  itsy-bitsy

teeny-weeny  see-through  polka-dot  bikinis worn by anorectic  hoydens.

No  pop  concerts.  No fast food joints. Magazines like  '19'  will  fold.

Cosmopolitan will be replaced by Women’s Weekly  for  although

Cosmopolitan  tells you how to achieve orgasm Women’s  Weekly  tells

you how to knit one. No rude shop assistants of take-it-or-leave-it  types

will be tolerated. Littering will be a capital  offence but murder of a lawyer

will no longer be a crime.  Media obsession with sex and violence  will

be replaced by quality acting. Chatty  DJs  will  disappear mysteriously in

the night as will all DJs what don't talk proper.

 

London  Airport  goes back  to Croydon. We'll have quiet, old-fashioned

pubs  with  absolutely  no  juke boxes, fruit machines, plastic  glasses  or

chemical  beer.  Things  will have larger knobs, bigger   print.   We'll  have

talking  watches.  Musak  will be forbidden as will lunatic small coins like

the 5p piece. Discos will have short licensing hours, 10 until 12,.. AM only.

 

Sex  will have to change a bit. The man of sixty who says he's still  doing

what he was at twenty,.. wasn't doing much at twenty.  Men will  kiss the

cheeks of ladies whom, twenty years ago, we kissed elsewhere and

with rather greater purpose. Unfortunately nature will still decree that

with age women converge and start to  look  the same, and have the same

measurements,.. 49-49-49,.. while  we chaps become endlessly more distinguished.

 

Cliff  Richard  will  retire,..  at  last,.. and let his hair go grey. There'll  be  lots

more records of Sinatra, Jolson and the Righteous  Brothers. We'll have the say. The

execrable Madonna and Kylie Minogue and Kardassian and Mary Berry and all rappers will be dragged screaming from the stage

by cohorts of jack-booted octogenarians and sentenced to twenty years of unbroken

silence.

 

The  young will be in wonderfully short supply,.. so rare we'll quite treasure them,.. occasionally.

 

More bungalows, more lifts, shallower stairs. No MacDonalds.  Back  to  non-metrics

and  lovely  things like pints and gallons  and  inches  and  yards  and shillings.

Back to the crispy bacon we used to have before the war. No-one below forty

can own a car or motor-bike. No children will  be  allowed in public places

unless on a lead. The voting age at once  goes up to thirty. Henceforth hundred-weight bags

will weigh fourteen pounds.

 

So don’t worry if your wild oats have changed to muesli. Hold on. Our day

is coming.

 

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