Age in a warm climate- by Aileen Cleave.

AGE IN A WARM CLIMATE                                                                 

When did age start to matter so much?  When did I realise that I had become old?  Or have I yet - realised, that is?  The dawning that here and now are the sunny uplands, the future no longer a vast territory of limitless possibilities, but honed into an ever-narrowing tunnel, is at times a frightening and saddening experience. 

Living as I do in a vibrant Spanish village shared with a few thousand  retired expats, mostly with a ten to fifteen year spread and all very purposefully pursuing a rewarding and useful life, it’s easy to forget that this demographic is not the norm.  Only when I return to England , to my children and grandchildren and their dizzying, frenetic pace of life, are my fast and ever growing shortcomings thrown into pitiless relief.   How I love their energy, their ambition, their constant juxtaposition of exuberant optimism and tragic despondency.  How I remember those intense feelings,  but oh how they tire me now!

In truth the essence of us all doesn’t change that much.  Even now, when I feel the warm sun on my face and drink in the blueness of a cloudless sky, my spirits soar and I feel the need to thank the spirits somewhere for my good fortune.  Then, like a disappointed teenager when my legs refuse to take me as far and as fast as I want to go,  I am frustrated and wretched. 

Of course we all know and remind ourselves frequently, that the alternative to this slow degeneration is not a good one.  We are boundlessly fortunate to “suffer” it, not least because of the tremulous state of the world today, and the agonies we witness on our screens every night.  But the human state is nothing if not complex.  It is the thought of our  demise, the incongruity of our existing no more while the rest of the world continues, that brings an intense  if fleeting sadness.  Perhaps it was different when we had faith, perhaps that is the reason to have faith.

Coming to terms with a decreased mobility, a patchy memory and, dare I say it, an unreliable bladder is a slow process.  Our sight has already faltered and our hearing is becoming suspect - the ending  of words is vital for understanding Spanish!   But come to terms we must, albeit whilst resolving to do everything in our power to hinder the decline.  And to this end the benefits of daily exercise are constantly lauded, both physical and mental, together with  importance of social interaction.

 Those of us fortunate enough to live here in Spain, and indeed in this small village, have truly drawn the Willy Wonka Golden Ticket.  Aided by a warm, dry climate there is little reason for anyone to be housebound or isolated.  The family clique of the British towns and villages doesn’t exist here, often a barrier to acceptance into tight circles.   For the majority of ex Pat residents,  there are no close family members nearby.  This is a glorious opportunity to go out and make new friends, pursue new interests and perhaps satisfy long held desires to help out in the community.  

Another impressive help in maintaining our cognitive ability (aside from the obligatory daily NY Wordle!!  is the possibility of learning the language of our host country.   To all those who cry defensively “I’m too old now for that amount of effort)”  I say you are never too old.  You might simply lack the confidence.  To learn a language is like deciding to write.  You need no qualifications, no degree, no masters, not even GCSEs, only a willingness to try.  Of course for some people, this effort may be directed towards learning social but mentally exacting card games like bridge or less exacting games such as canasta.

Our generation of retirees is the most fortunate in history.  Never before has a generation retired from work, many in their mid to late fifties, with enough energy and money  to enjoy a fulfilling life, lived without a dictating hierarchy, for a possible 30 years.

There are 529,000 people aged 90 and over in England and Wales, an increase of 23% in the last decade.  The overwhelming sentiment they share seems to be a determination to remain as independent as possible.   With independence comes dignity and with dignity a continued feeling of one’s self worth.   Of course, their personal disposition plays a part.  The research showed these nonagenarians to be generally happy with a life well lived.   A very worthy goal, I think.