A birthday selfie…

I have just marked an impossibly big birthday and wish to demand a recount. Or that thing they have at football matches where officials look at something again, just to be sure. A video assistant age verifier.

But it’s no use. The contentious foul has been nodded through. I will have to put up with being 70.

To reach this age I have suffered one serious heart attack and assorted minor ailments. The coronary stumble was two-and-a-half years ago. I don’t think about that too often now. Just sometimes. But I know my wife went through the wringer. She still worries if I am out longer than suggested. Then again, she probably did that before.

I wish now to turn to what has sustained me thus far. The love of family and friends; being with the same good worrying woman for more than 40 years and still having something to talk about (as well as all those repeats and re-runs); trying to retain a sense of humour.

Does reaching 70 teach you anything new? Oh, I don’t know. Ask someone who’s been at it for longer than a few days.

Here is more of what has sustained me. Reading words and writing words; many novels; the occasional pint of decent beer; a weekly glass of malt whisky; baking bread; going to see a film when I remember that cinemas still exist and are a good thing; watching television; listening to music and going to live concerts; playing the guitar; and liking to know stuff, even if there is too much left to know. When they lay me out, let my big toe still twitch with curiosity.

Stay interested in other people, that’s another one; remember to laugh; enjoy being in company and savour being by yourself. Remember which stories you have told and to whom. You will fail at that task but do try.

Exercise helps me, too. Walking, jogging, cycling; badminton and the last days of squash (should 70-year-olds still be allowed on court; my knee is grazed from when I fell the other day).

Thinking about politics too much, on the other hand, can’t be beneficial. Some habits are hard to shake. And who will put the world to rights if not you and me?

Talking of politics, I have joined u3a, the group for retired people. It’s all good so far. Full of old people, but there you go. As a newbie oldie, or an oldie newbie, I have signed up to two groups. One is for creative writing. This might be useful as I am attempting to write a novel again; 30,000 words and counting, although I have just hit a blockage. One that won’t be resolved by me sitting here writing these words but never mind.

The other group meets to discuss current affairs. This week’s topic was the party conference season, starting with the Lib-Dems, Labour and the Greens.

Perhaps surprisingly, considering the age of those taking part, nearly everyone was impressed by Andy Burnham and Labour. The Lib-Dems had a lukewarm reception. This could be summed up as: nothing wrong with them, but what are they for?

Nobody had a good word to say about Zack Polanski and the Greens. Sixth-form politics was one unfavourable verdict of Polanski’s speech. D minus was another. The parties of the right will be discussed next time, when I promise not to swear.

Everyone is very friendly so far. Sitting in that room was a bit like being back at university many decades after term has ended.

Do I have regrets? Oh, too few to mention. Or, perhaps, it is just pointless to hold onto them. A minor one is that I regret wasting time on my phone but still do it anyway.

More widely, I would like to have been a more successful journalist on what we used to call newspapers. A decent national newspaper, not that many remain. But I did sustain a whole working life in or around journalism, so that’s something.

I’d loved to have been John Crace, the parliamentary sketch writer on the Guardian. John is a hero to me, witty and almost too sharp for his own good, but always readable.

There are parallels between us. We have both just turned 70. We had a heart attack at the same time. I wrote about mine before John wrote about his. Many more people read about John’s heart attack than mine, but I got in first, almost as soon as they put that stent in me.

When you are 70 you know that most of your life now lies behind you. But everyone knows that anyway. Besides, we don’t have to be so linear about it. Life spreads in different ways. Yes, you have less countable time left than when you started out. But no-one knows what time will do. Look ahead rather than back; look sideways, too.

I just did that lazy thing where you search for a quote. This one caught my eye – “Don’t wait. The time will never be just right.”

It’s from Napoleon Hill, an American writer I’d never heard of. Turns out he was a self-help author and con man. It occurs to me that those two things might be the same.