The Age of Aquariums

One of the good things about so-called Middle Age is that it is so poorly defined. And so, if one is in danger of approaching this stage of life, or indeed is in danger of having reached it already, one can simply move the goalposts - as we fans of assocceration football like to say - and so pretend still be to "young", even if, in moments of totally honesty, one would admit that all the messages being received from ones elbows, knees, teeth, bowels, children and birthday cards suggest otherwise.

(I should clarify at the outset that Middle Age is in no way to be confused with The Middle Ages, which is something else entirely. The latter was a brutal period of human existence when people with rotting teeth worked all the hours God sent and never had any fun. The former, on the other hand, ...Oh, never mind.)

Now, just like Ebeneezer Scrooge, and indeed the Baby Jesus, The Referee has recently been visited by three wise messengers, each bearing clues which suggest that You-Know-When is perhaps approaching. And so, despite the considerable personal risks of self-revelation, I have decided to introduce you, dear reader, to my three messengers, in the hope that you might later recognise them, should you experience a visitation at some point.

1. Gluten

I don't know about you, but I had no idea what gluten was until, relatively recently, with no apparent provocation that I can recall, it started an argument with my lower intestine, causing all sorts of digestive chaos. After the argument had been going on for a while, I decided to admit defeat and simply give up eating anything involving wheat, which turns out to be the host of this sinister gloop. The improvement in my health was almost instant, but so was the sense of missing lots of things I liked to eat. However, the good news which awaits one in Middle Age is that there are lots of tempting foods which are made especially for those who find themselves in these circumstances, including disability bread, disability cakes and disability cookies. These "speciality" foods may have looked and tasted like cardboard a few years ago, but now, I am pleased to report, scientific improvements mean that they are almost edible.

2. Myopia

Now, until quite recently, as far as I can remember, road signs and shop signs and the like used to be painted up very clearly and, in the main, were mounted in a sturdy manner such that they would generally keep still, even in windy weather, and so were reasonably easy to read, even from a distance or from a passing car. It has come to my notice recently, however, that such signs tend to present themselves rather more sloppily than previously, such that some of the lettering can be difficult to read, and in some cases tend to move around in a very annoying manner, just at the moment one is trying to focus on them.

Having identified the potential root of this problem, I set off with some trepidation to visit an optometrist. (Have you ever wondered, by the way, what happened to all the "opticians" out there? I like to imagine that their bodies were somehow taken over by an advanced race of "optometrists", rather like Invasion of the Bodysnatchers.) Anyway, after investigating me with a variety of weird and wonderful contraptions, the young and female doctor asked me - and this is true, word for word - "Can you get dilated today, sir?". I have to admit that I was sorely tempted to say something highly facetious along the lines of "I have no idea but, with your help, perhaps we can make sweet music together". Needless to say, I said nothing of the sort. In fact, I said something much more along the lines of "Well, it's not all that convenient just now because I have to go back to my office and read some emails".

Anyway, after returning to be dilated at a more convenient time, I emerged with a prescription for mild shortsightedness and the news that I have a freckle on the back of my left eye. This is obviously important information which is bound to come in useful one day. For example, if I am ever separated from my left eye and need to identify it in a line-up (using my right eye, of course).

3. Young love

There may be many potential measurements to test whether things are going for one or against one in life. But few could be more telling and poignant than this one: Am I getting more or less romance than my children? Although it pains me to admit it, if the answer is "less", one really must be arriving in You-Know-When.

I raise this only because the senior offspring recently announced, with considerable poise for one yet to turn 11, that he has a girlfriend. He then proceeded to explain to me, perhaps thinking that I needed a lesson in these things, that, at his age, a girlfriend is a girl, who is a friend, whom you like. I tried briefly to encourage him to explain how that distinguished one particular girl from many others, but decided not to pursue the point very far. I knew what he meant, and so did he, even if he doesn't quite yet have the vocabulary to express it.

More surprisingly, having announced with some conviction that I knew which of the young ladies at his school we were talking about, it turned out that I was completely wrong. As usual, my finger was right on the pulse. Having spent much of the last few months hanging out, as they like to say here, with a particular young lady, it turned out that he had had his eye on someone else "ever since 4th grade". The tone in his voice had the unmistakable "doh!" of Homer Simpson, as if to say "get with it, daddy-o". I had been put firmly in my place, and, more disconcertingly, in my Age.

And so, there you have it. My advice - offered entirely free of charge - is to watch out for the three messengers of Middle Age and, if you see them coming, run as fast as you can. Followed, obviously, by a little lie down.