Old age creeps up on you. One day you too will be walking sideways down the stairs, or shaving with your specs on. HARRY COLE looks at his changing lifestyle ...

WHEN a person carries out a regular ritual year in-year out, it is easy to assume, because of the ritual's unchanging nature, nothing else has changed. Bewildered? I will explain.

Every day I shave. Okay, so there's nothing impressive about that. Most men do it. But as I was reaching for my razor yesterday, my wife asked why I was not wearing my specs. "I can't understand you," she said. "You write a book, you read a newspaper and the first thing that happens is everyone has to run around to help you find your glasses. But you slide a razor up and down your throat and you never wear them. Why?"

I had to admit she had a point and, as I'm an amenable sort of bloke, I dutifully put on my specs.

All I can now say is, if there is anyone reading this who is in the same boat, forget it. Under no circumstances even attempt it. And why?

Well, for the last 30 years, I have been shaving a young, if somewhat blurred, Robert Redford. Yesterday I put on my specs and an old and particularly decrepit Neil Kinnock stared back at me.

At first I couldn't believe it. I frowned and he frowned. I opened my mouth and he opened his. I shook my head and he did the likewise. Yes, there was no mistake, that really was me screwing up my nose in horror.

Now this was a colossal blow to my self-esteem. Oh, of course, my birth certificate states I'm 70 but I knew I didn't look it. Okay, so I don't play football or cricket anymore but I'm sure I could if I wanted to.

So many times have I seen players on television miss a goal which even at my age I could have scored with my left eyebrow, or sometimes even a more delicate part of my anatomy.

It's the same with cricket.

I simply knew I would have scored more runs than Michael Atherton or taken more wickets than Darren Gough, but now, because of those damned spectacles, all this self-confidence has evaporated.

Reality has replaced fantasy.

I now remember, like most OAPs, not only do I forget things and walk down stairs sideways, I'm also guilty of the greatest age giveaway of all time.

It is the one over-riding trait of maturity which comes to all and escapes none.

Now, just because of stupidly putting my specs on to shave, I have to sorrowfully confess I have reached that sad stage. Here it is: I have cut the toes out of my slippers! My mate Sid reckons once you've done that the next thing is wearing a woolly hat in bed.

As if that wasn't bad enough, after 50 trouble-free years with a razor, I have just cut my throat.

I'm not really sure if it's those bloody specs or a serious attempt at suicide.

July 6, 2001 11:28

Harry Cole