This really is the final straw. I can cope with having gre…sorry, silver hair. I can cope with being a Dad and giving up my precious sports coupe for a more ‘practical’ machine. I can also deal with the fact that instead of being the pupil I am now the teacher. Turning 30 was never an issue and if I am honest I couldn’t wait for the piss up.
There is however one thing that really made me wake up to the fact that old age is creeping up faster than a bus load of Jeremy Kyle fans heading to the nearest Gregg’s bakery…the fitness app on my iPhone. All of a sudden I have gone from the ‘20-30’ age bracket gym routine to the 30-40. An app telling me that I should be doing ‘less weight at my age’ and reminding me I am no longer 29 really is a kick on the balls!
Recently at the place I work I was given the task to look after our Maltese national breakfast show. For years our brekkie jock had been doing a great job sustaining the figures, playing the hits and keeping the station at number one in the country. This week he turned 27. The challenge is now trying to get the best out of him and be more life style with his work on-air. Last year he got married has since become a Father and really has shed loads to talk about. Plenty of quality life points to relate to the audience. I then found myself doing something I’d never thought I would. I drew a ‘life arch’ chart as replicated by my old ‘Aussie’ programme director. (There was a time back in the UK when the radio industry had more Australians running the place then Sydney itself. They came to the UK, brought their BBQ’s, fell in love with a Brit, probably from the same radio station, then went back to enjoy themselves in the sun with one of our Pommie lasses. Fair play).
The Aussies regardless of how wanky the formatting and structures were they are however excellent programmers. I remember my old boss in his thick ‘Summer Bay’ accent draw me this arch of my life starting one end with the number 20 and ending up at 30. This was to replicate my years and highlight all the life points I had gained in my career. At 20 it started off as me meeting a different girl most weekends, getting pissed in various cities around the UK and not having a care in the world. As the finger moved up the arch past my early twenties to 25 I was gaining responsibilities, attempting a relationship and settling down a bit (even had a reasonably sensible car). Over the hump and down towards 30 my hair was going (slightly) silver, my gym had slowed down and a belly was forming. I’d also become a Dad and got fired. Twice. The life arch. Another blow just below the belt.
Whilst painting this picture out to our breakfast guy it suddenly hit me is what I did in the first part of the arch made me what I am today? Had I done all I did to be the person I am today? Had I worn myself out, peaked too early? Not coming home on a Saturday night really had taken its toll. Don’t get me wrong; I actually wouldn’t change a thing about my life, as I believe in destiny. Destiny, however, has a way of creeping up on you and making you feel old. It also has a point when I tried the 20-30 fitness regimes. I was knackered!
So, the morale of the story; don’t wear yourself out in the 20-30 years old category. Save it for your 30+ and go fill your boots.
