Apologies for not having got round to posting today. I would like to be able to say it’s because I’ve been suffering from a hangover from birthday party celebrations. But, alas, no such luck!

I’ve been commissioned to do a painting.  My four year old granddaughter has asked for a painting of a unicorn with a rainbow – so you can see I’ve had far more important things to do today than to write this blog.

To compensate, here’s the poem I should have posted yesterday. Those of you who are familiar with my blog (180 followers and 8,330 views since the blog’s inception a few years ago – apologies to Helen for the brackets and the dash!) will have seen this poem before.

It’s called Another Birthday.  Hope you like it.

Another Birthday

Something happens

Between 69 and 70

You become a senior

and all of a sudden

you don’t recognise

that person in the mirror

and on the scales.

You shuffle in your slippers

read the papers

and pop pills.

The receptionist

at the doctor’s

knows your name.

Complete strangers

call you my darling

and my dear.


You want to be offered seats

on trains

And flat shoes seem

a better option

than high heels.

You are now

a silver surfer

so you search for

senior bargains online

There must be some perk

to reaching this age!

Hotels offer you

twin beds

and disabled bathrooms.

11 o’clock at night

seems very late to be out

and you find yourself

wanting to nap

in the middle of the day.

Your children ask how you are

but don’t really want to know

and people say you look well

when they mean

you are looking good for your age.

You have become invisible

to the opposite sex

and to anyone under forty.

People talk about “special” birthdays

and give you soppy smiles.


You wish you were

growing old disgracefully

but just don’t have the energy.

“Come upstairs and make love to me,” he said,

“I can do one or the other,” I replied

“Don’t expect me to do both”!

I’ve started listening to the Archers

and the weather forecasts

Doing crosswords

and reading the obituaries

Seeing the names of

people I once knew

Thank goodness Mick Jagger

can still strut his stuff

and Macca too

still performing

whilst others the same age

languish in care homes

uncared for and forgotten.

It’s odd to think

that in ten years or so

I will look back at this time

And think myself young.



© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems



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