I take it from these posts the vast majority of you are thirty something. As I race into my 40's (where life is supposed to begin) let me tell you... things only deteriorate. Things that once brought me pleasure now really drive me crazy... Last night was a classic example...
When I was 3 I would sit for many happy hours in the garden, with my pet chicken Sally, sat among the flowers pulling the wings off daddy long legs... For years I took delight in torturing these funny looking flying anomalies.
BUT NOW I'M OLD AND THEY GET THEIR OWN BACK!
Last night at 4am I was rudely woken by a daddy longlegs dancing all over my face in what could only be described at a malicious revenge act for all its fellow long legs I annihilated in my youth.
Stumbling around to find the light switch to get put on my glasses (my eyes are not what they used to be), I knock over a glass of water, all over my bed (spend 5 minutes blotting up the water with my towelling dressing gown because I don’t want to trek into the bathroom for a towel).
Now my fuse is beginning to blow…
Eventually I manage to turn on the light to be dive bombed from all sides by the daft daddy still dancing about. Pick up the magazine I was reading before I went to sleep, wave my arms frantically in the vain hope of hitting it and it disappears!
Now I’m really losing it…
The blasted thing is nowhere to be seen… after hunting it down to the curtain I finally put it out of my misery, hitting it with such ferocious blows that they would have killed an elephant, I head back to bed. Only to discover my now age weakened bladder needs emptying (we are now at 4:30am: things take so much longer when you get older)
I have now lost the plot and am stomping around like a bear with a sore hole…
Donning my soaking wet dressing gown (yes, I should have gone to get a towel in the first place) I stumble into the darkness of the landing, where I promptly trip over and step on the cat, who promptly claws for my trouble on the offending foot as I fall head first into the bathroom where I land in a heap, only then to realise the release mechanism of aged bladder is faster than my body or brain and I have another pool of water to contend with along with a foot now pouring with blood (now 5:10am).
5: 20am, washed, changed, bandaged and very tired I snuggle under my duvet and try to get back over to sleep, remembering the days when getting a damp spot on the bed was much more fun and way less stressful!

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What Im trying to say is Victor Meldrew is in us all irrespective of where we live... IT WILL ONE DAY BE YOU!

And when the only red flag's flying are the belly warmer, passionkiller knickers hanging out on the washing line!