What do I have in common with these images from one of my favourite movies Spirited Away? Did I model for the third picture? Go to the back of the class. No, its creator Hayao Miyazaki and I were both born in 1941, which makes me (shriek!) Seventy. The Big Seven Oh. Today.
I have to admit that I was dreading leaving the Swinging Sixties, but strangely enough I woke up this morning still feeling about thirty-eight - my preferred choice of age. I looked out the window and the sky hadn't fallen, the sun had risen, and when Mr Fudge laid on a champagne breakfast, I wondered why I hadn't thought of putting my age forward a year last year.
Over the past month or so, with the impending new decade about to begin, it occurred to me that my brain would probably still function as it has done reasonably well over the last decade, and that there were so many of my contemporaries who were still out there achieving their goals.
They probably won't appreciate this, but some well known folk born in 1941 include Bob Dylan, cooking guru Delia Smith, Dick Cheney, Fay Dunaway, Jesse Jackson, singers Joan Baez and Helen Reddy
And let's not forget Neil Diamond.
|If you remember when Hot August Night came out, |
you too must be heading for the Twilight Zone.
Two women I admire greatly are even older than me.
Judi Dench, my all-time favourite actress, is 77 this year and Rupert Murdoch's indomitable mother Elisabeth Murdoch is 102! And both Dames.
My only worry is that I now find I am attracted to younger men.
Jeff Bridges is eight years younger than me, but when all is said and done, he's not a patch on Mr Fudge.