Old Age

Ironically, after blogging about still being a child at heart and enjoying Christmas pantomimes, I now appear to be aging at an alarming rate.

I am surrounded by old people every day that I work, because at a cafe in a cathedral the majority of the customers are, well, ancient. There are obviously exceptions, like their grandchildren, choirboys and the occasional young person who possibly wandered in by mistake. However, some customers come in so regularly that I have named them (in my head) "Crazy Old Guy", "Smelly Old Guy," "Old Guy With The Adorable Face," and "Old Lady Who Looks Like A Hammerhead Shark." And now I am worrying that aging might be catching. That, or these people do not go to the cafe because they are old; they are old because they go to the cafe.

Perhaps there is something in the coffee.

I found a grey hair.

An actual grey hair, just hanging there next to my cheek and my ear, amid all the other black ones.

I showed it to my Mum, and she said "maybe it's blonde." After all, my brother was born blond, and his hair has got darker ever since and is now dark brown. The same could be happening to me in reverse. But I compared it to one of my Mum's actual grey hairs, and it truly was grey.

This is only the beginning. Soon I will have wrinkles. And backpain (actually, I already have this today). Soon I will call everyone 'dear.'

A grey hair. This is ridiculous. I read books from the 'Young Adult' section. I have a cuddly toy lion. I know all the lyrics to 'The Teddy Bear's Picnic." I pulled it out. It is not coming back.