By Bill Storie
For those of you who follow the game of cricket you will know what the title means. For those of you who do not follow the game of cricket you can work it out. For those of you who have no idea what cricket is then too bad. However this week’s article isn’t about cricket so you’re off the hook.
A couple of nights back my colleague and Olderhood co-Founder Robin Trimingham wrote about reaching the ripe old age of 100. We got a lot of feedback on that, most people willing to give it a shot.
So I thought I’d ponder what life would be like at 100.
I’d still lose my reading glasses and my car keys. Heaven only knows what shape my memory would be in. Would I care whether I was over my limit on my credit cards? Would the bank still trust me to actually have credit cards?
I wonder if I would pass my driving test. I wonder what cars will look like then anyway. Maybe we’ll be flying around in our own personal drones.
Would Facebook still be as annoying? Would I be Twittering by then? I haven’t Twittered yet, so the chances of learning between now and then are fairly remote anyway. I’d have Google Eyes I suppose. I probably wouldn’t want to Skype by then for fear of being seen by other people.
Health-wise I have no idea. I’d probably still be taking my daily vitamins and be as confused then as I am now as to whether they have any effect. Maybe by then I’d have stopped reading advertisements for the latest craze for foods that are good for you. I suppose by then it wouldn’t matter what I ate. At last maybe I could have an extra donut in the morning. Would it make any difference at that stage?
I’d still get up early in the morning I imagine, but probably would need a nap by three in the afternoon. Oh wait, I do that already. No change in that case. I’d still get my eight hours of sleep every day. Two in the afternoon, two in the evening, two when I went to bed and two in the middle of the night. Easy. Eight hours.
It would be nice to think I was still going to the gym every day. I reckon I could still stand shoulder to shoulder alongside those weight-lifting hunks that go to the gym at the moment. Maybe not. Well, I can dream can’t I?
I’d be even more confused than I am these days with the stairs in my house. “Did I just come up for something or am I heading downstairs?” Maybe I could get one of those wee electric trolley things that you sit on it, press a button and it trundles you up and down like an escalator. Maybe I’d do it all day and get dizzy – for something to do with all that spare time I’d have.
What would I do for fun and excitement I wonder? Would I still be playing football (soccer)? Unlikely, as I don’t play these days in any case, but the dream lives on. Would I still be at my peak performance if you know what I mean? Answers on a postcard please to me at Olderhood.
I guess by then I’d have changed the name from Olderhood to ReallyReallyOlderHood.
See you next week when I’ll be one week closer to 100 not out.
By Bill Storie