UP & COMING DOWN UNDER

I dislike reading or hearing people talking about 'THE PROBLEMS OF THE AGED' . We aged do not have problems, other people have problems because, unlike us, they have not experienced life as long as we have.

For example, when I last consulted my friendly, capable and well qualified young doctor (he's about 50) I did not realise it was Diabetes Awareness Week. But he did, and he sent me for a blood test. Later that week his nurse rang. My blood sugar was high, could I please come in? Now the 'normal' range for blood sugar is from 4 -8 mils. Mine is 6.2, so I do not agree that it is high. However I accepted the literature about diet and exercise, down loaded the diet and exercise plan. It was sensible, very little different to my own regime, so I followed it. Apart from a torn ligament in the walking programme, I am feeling better, there is less of me, so I shall keep following directions, BUT I STILL DO NOT AGREE THAT I AM DIABETIC .

Us 'oldies' are still functioning, achieving and contributing. Last October I had ten lovely days in Ireland then popped over to Liverpool for my on line poetry group's reunion where I read from my latest 'slim volume', OVER AND OUT FROM DOWN UNDER.

Next June I plan to live in Crete for four months.

So where's the problem?

Anyway, here's a poem from "Over and Out From Down Under". Happy New Year!

Waitaki Hogmanay

All day caravans and cars

will drive through our gate and

make a circle round the green

like a wagon train in a western.

Awnings will spread, children will scatter

to take up games laid down last summer.

Except Jason and Dulcie

Who will stroll to the beach because

now they are fifteen; he has begun shaving

and her breasts are budding.

We will spread trestles under

the oak tree for drinks

and salads and things ladies bring on plates,

not forgetting sausages and steaks

and fillets of salmon wrapped in foil.

Fred's new barbecue has a grill

and hotplates, rotisserie and

an oven for warming bread.

Men will gather to admire but

they remember bonfires on beaches

and sausages on sticks.

"Has anyone seen Dulcie?" her mother will ask.

At ten o'clock, Alice and Bert will tune their guitars

Mothers will send children to wash their hands.

"Where the hell is bloody Jason?" his father will snarl.

At midnight we will sing "Auld Lang Syne"

and toast the New Year, absent friends,

whitebait , salmon and sea-run trout.

Anglers from the next camp will come

first footing and when there are

no more bottles or cans we will

make tea to toast the dawn.

Jason and Dulcie will stroll back

from the beach, last night's stars

still bright in their eyes.