Monday 26 May 2008

On being middle aged.


Dewar's Folly, Holyrood.
Wandered into the Capital today to look at Betty Windsor's collection of Italian Renaissance art at Holyrood (plebs admitted for £5). Lunched al fresco on the stone seats opposite Dewar's Folly (aka The House of Fun) courtesy of Jesse Boot's lunchtime special (buy 5, get 1 free). Reflected that it must be early summer in Edinburgh, as you can sit out comfortably in a light jacket and the air is rent with the pleasant twitter of the first migrant Japanese tourists of the season. As I munched contentedly on my prawn sandwich, I realised that I was sitting dressed in the summer plumage of the off duty, faux-hip cleric in early middle age - jacket and shirt from M & S, Armani jeans, shoes from Next and prescription shades by Police. I have become the Betjeman-esque clerical ruin I was intended by nature, nurture and grace to be. Middle class (by salary), middle aged (by default) and middle brow (by nature). And I don't care. I'm comfortable with it. I feel no pain or angst at ceasing to be a bright young thing (now at any rate) and am happy to enjoy being in my own skin. I may never go gentle into that good night, but I'm happy to bask in the early afternoon sunshine today.

4 comments:

  1. I don't know about middle aged, but I certainly think you're having a 'senior moment', Dougal! Are the parish clergy really middle class by salary? Surely not?

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  2. We are when you add in the fringe benefits of housing and council tax.

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  3. Eeek - my old man will be turning in his grave at the very thought of raising a middle class boy!

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  4. I think being middle aged is great: don't care any more what people think, no image to keep up, free to be the way we want to be - brilliant! How long can we make it last though? 70? 80? I refuse to believe 60 since I have only a few months to go . . .

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