60 is the new 40

It's been quite a week. I turned 60 on the 17th and Nick was 21 on the 19th.

In the midddle of all this, I went up to London to give a talk in Knightsbridge, just south of the Albert Hall (illustrated). It's worth another blog all to itself.

Turning 60 is a landmark that, on balance, I'm not willing to let slip by, but I havered (good Scottish word; famously used in the Proclaimers' song "500 miles" ) over the weeks, between "It doesn't matter a jot" and "My world is coming to an end".

A lot of my old college chums are turning 60 this year and they still sound pretty cool to me. However, Tim Whiteford: who played 12 string guitar for the strippers at Severn Beach and went off to work in a college in Vermont, where he still lives; went into his office this week and tried to open the door by pushing the button on his car keys. The rot has set in, Tim.

An unexpected bonus for turning 60 is that I get a free bus pass, and a reduction on my rail fares. This sounds great, but I don't use either train or bus very much. Not while I still have a job, anyway.

Ade George used to play guitar to my flute at St Matthias College (1968 to 70). He recently took a trip on his new bus pass, wearing his heavy-metal tee shirt and listening to his iPod. He felt a bit out of place as most of the passengers were ladies with blue hair and tartan shopping bags on wheels. (He fancied some blue-rinse totty, he explained.) Almost no-one paid for the trip as they all had passes of some sort.

It all brings to mind an old friend of mine who is a former colonial governor, so worth a bob or two. After he got a bus pass, which can only be used off-peak, we had to organise our monthly meetings for after 11 a.m. He became so frugal that he bought illegal cigarettes off strange men in pubs, while dressing as though he had just strolled off his magnificent yacht.

He took a trip on the "booze cruise" to France in order to get duty free wine. At the Tesco store in Calais he bought crates of New Zealand wine, making sure to get his Tesco points. To save money on the ferry, he left the big Volvo at home, so his wife drove her little VW instead. They took two trolley loads of booze out to the car, opened the boot (trunk) and found a bucket of horse nuts, a saddle, a helmet and a pair of boots there. My friend is large, but thankfully full of crevices where you can stash bottles. They dumped the boxes and packed the loose bottles around themselves, clanking their way home in the little car.

So, you may ask, "What did I do to console myself on turning 60; hug a 40 year old?" The truth is no less strange and exotic.

We booked a whole day off. Carers would meet Dan from school and take him swimming, feed him, do his medication and put him to bed. So, in theory, we were free from 9 am to 11 pm. We planned a day-trip to the Norfolk coast top see snow buntings, shore (horned) larks etc. However, to set this up, we needed to provide his evening meal, notes for carers about medication, swimming gear, cash, make his bed, lay out PJ's etc. This took until late morning. We also needed to be close-by in the evening, so the day was too short for a trip to the coast. We opted to go to Hanna's old work place at Wicken Fen instead. It is possibly the oldest nature reserve in the World, and quite close to Cambridge, so less than an hour away.

We had a fabulous visit to Wicken where we watched courting harriers (marsh hawks), Cettis warblers and loads of wildfowl on the flooded peatlands, followed by excellent coffee and cake.

Cambridge has replaced Edinburgh in our affections. It's a great town to hang out in, but we still miss Borders Bookshop, which closed last year. We popped in to the John Lewis store and parted with a lot of money, but I am now the proud owner of a new iMac computer. It's a mid-life crisis thing. My son Nick has one, and I want one (or a Harley Davidson). I'd really like to mark this year with a spectacular trip abroad but that's not possible, so we seized the opportunity provided by gifts from Nick and Nancy (Hanna's parents) and, surprisingly, my Mum. My brother discovered a small savings account that she had not cashed in and we split it between us. Thanks Mum!

It didn't end there. We had coffee at the Arts Picture House in Cambridge. Its a great hang-out for movie buffs, freaks, old beatniks and pretentious students; and us. It reminds me a lot of other places we have adopted in St. Andrews and Edinburgh. Then back to Huntingdon for a bar meal at the very posh, but not pretentious Old Bridge Hotel.

At this point it was still pretty early in the evening, but, short of sleeping in the car, we needed to get home to bed. We phoned our carers for permission to come home!

Now Nick's 21st is another deal, and I'll try to piece together what happened when I get all the info.

A few days later, I'm still alive and feeling OK. That's just how most people feel if you ask them, so being 60 makes no difference , does it?