I’m going out on Sunday night. It’s not unusual for me to have a night on the town but this time I’ll be packing some knickers in my handbag.
Yes, you’ve guessed it – I’m off to see Tom Jones performing at Edinburgh Castle. When I saw that the boy from the Valleys was appearing in the Capital there’s no way I could resist signing up for tickets.
Since then, I’ve been a tad worried as there is a point at which these old timers should perhaps limit appearances to repeats on UK Gold. I mean, there was Monty Python doing a show when John Cleese is no longer able to do a silly walk that involves raising his leg above knee level.
And there’s a Beatle whose singing just doesn’t quite hit the notes that it used it, not to mention the dodgy hair dye. However, earlier this week, the man known as The Voice did a concert in Hyde Park. The reviews were stupendous – his larynx hasn’t lost its va-va-voom even though his fans may have left theirs at the back of the wardrobe.
It’s always a tricky business, knowing when to bow out gracefully. Whilst the official retirement age is 65, there are those who only bloom in their September years.
Would the Great British Bake Off have been half as good without Mary Berry (age 79) and Peter Sallis only started voicing Wallace and Gromit at the grand old age of 68, deciding to retire as he hit his tenth decade.
In August The Scottish Gallery has a solo show of fabulous new work by artist Victoria Crowe who is a year shy of her 70th birthday. Should she hang up her paint brushes?
Whilst there is the saying that no-one goes to meet their maker wishing that they had spent more time in the office, keeping busy doing something one loves is surely better than sitting in an armchair watching Countdown.
By the time I reach my mid-60s I’ll be wearing purple and backpacking in Nepal.
I may even sing, as long as there is no-one around to hear me.