Of owls and pussycats…

CHRIS BENNETT reflects on the peculiarity of ageing.

MAY this year was, for me, as merry a month as you could wish.

I spent most of it in a Cape Town newly blessed with a world class transport system based on dedicated bus roads (and lanes).

I enjoyed time in a friend’s house on the mountain in Kalk Bay, just below Boyes Drive, overlooking the pretty fishing harbour and comfortably within walking distance of the Brass Bell, a restaurant and brassy, leathery old pub, the inside of which I saw a not inconsiderable amount.

From there I went to stay with a friend in Sea Point, close to the SABC building in which I worked for a few happy years about thirty years ago, during which I lived in the then enchanting Hout Bay.

But one outstanding memory of those sunshiney May weeks in Cape Town came in the form of an invitation from a pal of my friend. She is one of those in charge of a small retirement village called Nerina Gardens in the heart of Fishhoek, one of the many towns on the coast of the dramatic and beautiful False Bay.

I had never consciously visited a village of this sort before and it proved a revealing exercise. It made me think of age.

An article on the BBC website this week took me back to that day; the visit had triggered some interesting discussions about the elusive aspect of time that we call age.

Tony Blair, he of the People’s Princess fame (or should it be notoriety? we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt: he was, after all, a politician) when he was living at Ten Downing Street at the expense of the princess’s people, called attention to the fact that he felt no older then than he did as a young teenager, or words to that effect.

But then he wouldn’t; with a few exceptions we all feel like that. Age is as much a state of mind as anything, in my experience.

Written by Tom de Castella and Virginia Brown, the piece quoted one or two memorable comments including this from Leon Trotsky: "Old age is the most unexpected of all the things that happen to a man."

The writers go on to say that behavioural thinkers believe that most people are incapable of imagining themselves getting old, one reason why people fail to invest sufficiently in a pension.

They added that it underlined the idea that humans distinguish between their present and future selves. "It's been shown that people's identification with themselves diminishes as they look into the future," says Daniel Read, professor of behavioural science at Warwick Business School. "It comes down to not caring about ourselves in the future."

Talking to residents, many of whom were not much older than I, at Nerina Gardens, we found much in common; maybe because we had lived north of the Limpopo decades ago and had plenty about which to reminisce.

Although loneliness can be a tragedy for many, it seems to be becoming less of a problem as time goes by. This, of course, may be due to the fact that so many people are living longer; one’s friends die less often, if you see what I mean.

On the South Coast we form a large part of the community and have a lot to contribute. It has been my good fortune to write this column, making me feel gainfully employed and giving me pleasure at the same time. I was one of those blessed with the capacity for enjoying my work, work which stopped rather abruptly at the age of 53; I changed horses and took to writing. Writing beats working any day.

I enjoy living on the South Coast for many reasons, not the least of which is that I am among people of my own age; I also enjoy the knowledge that there are those older than I.

But not many.

CB

19/9/11