It was never my plan to turn 32 today, it just happened this way.
Nor do I recall exactly when I lost my zest for officially becoming one year older than I was the day before. Suffice to say I don’t recall my 31st – not for the reasons one might expect – I just know it took place and am content to leave it at that. I recall my 30th filling me with the rancour that most people synonymise with elderly incontinence. On my 29th I recall just being sorrowful to leave behind 28; which incidentally I recall not even wanting to become because 27 was so damned awesome…
I am frequently corrected and often berated for referring to my current age as ‘middle aged’. I ponder this, asking myself if it’s fair that they’re having a go at me out of their frustration at not being able to do basic math.
0 – 29, in my opinion, ought to be considered ‘young’.
30 – 59, in my opinion, ought to be considered ‘middle aged’. (Whether or not you wish to hyphenate the aforementioned is up to you, I guess it’s a question of maturity.)
60 – 89, in my opinion, ought to be considered ‘old’.
To anyone who wants to go past that, well, I guess that’s your call. Just know that I never would and for the record, you are no longer simply old, you are now ‘ancient’ or as some might warrant/prefer, ‘decrepit’.
In saying that, Prince Philip is 94 years old. He doesn’t give a shit. He does what he likes and says what he thinks. I like him.
So here’s hoping.
Article by Tim Walker
Edited by Happy B Day
Photography by Te Mai