On the many insults

And as the mileposts wizz by on my slide towards decrepitude, I suffer the pangs and pains of mounting years. Perhaps you know the feeling: parts of you want to get bigger shrink while the bits you want to shrink grow. The places you want hair lose it, mocked by the odd new places it finds to grow.

Now standby to receive a new word of the modern variety. Not long ago I had to upstrength my reading glasses. In only a matter of weeks I found I could no longer easily read text of almost any size. So off we go to the optical people, and soon enough, with the vacuum cleaner applied to my wallet, I now have a brand new pair. Strong enough to spot distant quasars, the frames are constructed of a special metal called unobtanium.

Did you spot my new word? That’s fully sick, apparently (so totally). In the language of the new generation, I’m told this means good.

Soon it will be time to downscale my day’s activities, and head off to bed. I hope your eyes are good enough to read this without glasses.