Breaching.

I sense that my grip on this blog is slipping, which is a shame because it’s been my mainstay and my best friend for quite a long time. Interestingly, the blog isn’t losing its grip on me. It keeps hanging on resolutely, reminding me that people who live mostly in their heads need a release valve to let out some of the tension. The problem is that the valve is sticking at the moment. I’ve had plenty to say recently, but lacked the mental energy to commit it to the keyboard.

But one thing is becoming apparent to me lately, so maybe it’s worth jotting a note about it.

I’m beginning to have personal experience of the fact that as we age, the process of physical degradation becomes too marked to ignore. We become uglier of visage; the distribution of cranial hair thins out and what’s left of it becomes finer. And it changes colour from dark brown (in my case) to grey or white. Our bodies grow deformed, our muscles become weaker, and they ache more readily after relatively little effort. Four of our five senses – touch is the exception – lose the acuity which kept them ever ready for fight, flight, or finer feelings. Our minds become shrouded in a light mist and our physical balance a little precarious.

And then there’s the matter of smell. When I was a boy there were several occasions on which it was necessary to visit care homes and geriatric hospitals, and what struck me most was the smell – stale urine and other rank odours emanating, I naturally presumed, from the old people occupying the place. The presumption that old people smell bad became deeply ingrained in my psyche, and it’s still there. It probably isn’t true, but I’ve always made a point of never getting near enough to find out. (Shameful, I suppose, but there you are.) And so it’s still a worry and a reason to keep my distance even further from the few people I might get physically close to, so as to save them the discomfort and me the embarrassment.

(On one occasion once upon a time the Lady B said to me: ‘come closer so I can hear you better.’ I was happy to oblige in those far off days, but now I think I should be more circumspect and measure the distance more conservatively. Four feet or thereabouts would seem about right, especially if there’s at least a brisk breeze blowing in the opposite direction.)

But at least there’s comfort to be had from the fact that dogs have different sensibilities to us, so maybe I can still enjoy the enthusiastic attention of friendly canines with long, floppy ears. Dogs are not given to pejorative judgment of people who emanate an unsavoury odour, but regard dubious smells as being merely a matter of curiosity.