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60

I can remember my dad being sixty.

I can remember thinking, bloody hell that’s old. I can remember thinking he looks old. I can remember thinking, I hope I die before I get that old.

And yet – here I am ….at sixty.

This should be considered a miracle mainly because:

1.I drink too much.

2.I eat too much.

3.I drive way too fast …and

4.I’m a complete stress head.

Note: drinking too much and driving too fast are not combined.

So …it is with certain element of surprise that I find myself writing this blog – not from beyond the grave…but from my cottage in the Peak District.

I can also confirm that I look like my dad did at sixty, as in …I look old.

I look sixty, I feel sixty …so it’s about time I started acting like sixty.

Unfortunately, it’s unlikely to happen any time soon.

I still retain my childish enthusiasm for cars with big engines and noisy exhausts.

I still tweak and modify every car I own so that they maximise every ounce of power available.

I still wake up every day like it’s my last day on earth and try and get as much out of it as I can.

I still read as much as I can on a huge range of topics from new authors to classics.

I still listen to people – whether they be older or younger – and if they have something to say or something to recommend – I will try anything once.

I’m open to new challenges.

I do 10,000 steps a day.

I have two great daughters.

I have a lovely wife.

I have a dog.

I cook.

I smell nice (so I’m told by my wife)

 

So….maybe sixty is the new 50 or 40 or whatever …. either way it’s just a number.

 

Here’s to the next 40 or so continuing in the same vein.

 

Mike C

 

NB. no flowers – please send money to the Mike Clough Benevolent Fund for saving loose women.