Armourial Underwear

I am becoming increasingly aware that I am getting older but though your body ages, your inner self does not. I try to ignore it most of the time. I can still break into a jog, especially when the dog is chasing my daughter’s cat and trying to despatch it to a higher realm.I can still cycle, I may have a problem remembering peoples names,I always hope that something in the conversation will bring what’s on the tip of my tongue to my mind,and why did I go into that room , what was it I wanted? If I go on a long walk with the dogs my body shuts down later and I fall asleep on the sofa.

Then, as is well known by people my age, at parents evening I am aware that my daughter is being taught by “Youths”, some Doctors look as if they are only just out of school and bus drivers treat me as if I’m senile as I have a free pass.

I have suddenly begun to get more post too! Catalogues. These contain pictures of extremely wide shoes, underwear fit for a mediaeval knight and all kinds of gadgets to help you with problems with your body, that you just hope you never encounter!

I have been reading Billy Grahams book, “Nearing Home”,written now that he is 93. A really inspiring piece of writing, you can tell what kind of attitude he has to ageing as the first chapter is called “Running Toward Home”.The first sentence says,”Growing old has been the greatest surprise of my life”. With all the media “information” we are given, I too am surprised that any of us make old age. Everyday TV , radio and magazines tell us how many of us will get terminal illnesses and that we should be ever watchful and take this test or that. Wouldn’t advertisements that tell us to get on with life ,stop worrying about ourselves and enjoy the time on earth we have been given be better?

2 Corinthians 5:1 tells us ” Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed,we have a building from God,an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.”

Not everyone makes old age or even middle age, but we are not meant for this world alone. We are meant for Heaven.We have a soul, a spirit made in God’s image. The body that you have now will one day cease functioning. Death is not the end. We will live on, the Bible tells us so. It will either be “in Heaven with God or in a place of loneliness and despair ..totally separated from God.”

Jesus said “In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going to prepare a place for you…that you also may be where I am.”John 14:2-3 Heaven is real.

“Don’t let another day go by without Christ.” Billy says. If you put your faith in Him, you belong to him and nothing can separate you from Him, not even death.

In the meantime let’s get living, don’t spend time on the “what if’s” take a day at a time and live it. Wear heels, a balcony bra, winkle pickerslive , whatever you like ,whatever your age. Don’t spend time waiting for a crisis. LIVE!

Ay, eee, oi, ow, yew.

My divorce will be finalised in a few days so I have been toying with surnames. I looked at both my Grandmothers’ maiden names, and my Mothers’ but none struck me as suitable. I had my first married name as long as I had my maiden name but that was also the name of a disreputable character in a Daniel Defoe novel, so that was out.

The second married name , had to be signed very carefully . In my handwriting it took on a bovine quality and correspondence sometimes arrived addressed to Mrs Cow. I apologise again to anyone with this surname if it exists.

I need to cast off my existing married name (now I sound like a female version of Henry VIII, died ,divorced… so should this one should have been beheaded… only joking.) because, as my ex-husband has probably found, living within a few miles of each other but not together with a very unusual name, has caused many explanations to be given over the past year.

So I am returning to my maiden name. This is not without its difficulties too. It looks German, but our family originated, according to my Grandfather ,from Vikings. However, people have great difficulty pronouncing it. At school, clever teaching types pronounced it as if we suffered from flatulence, and my sister and I practically crawled under the chairs in Grammar School assemblies when form groups were announced . I don’t know if my many cousins had the same problem.

As our family moved from the West Country to Sussex with my Great Grandfather. The A is just that; pronounced “AY”, not “ar” or “at”
just “ay”.
So I shall be VATER, “vayter”, and proud of it. Once when assisting a surgeon with a Gastroscopy, he offered to show me the Ampulla of Vater within the patient’s innards but I declined , because it was pronounced wrongly and I felt for the poor man that we were exploring.

Facebook won’t let me change it without uploading at least two forms of photographic proof, which I don’t have yet of course. I have a wallet full of plastic that will need updating and no doubt “Jim” at the JC will have much to say about it, after he cuts of my money for trying to impersonate someone else!

As I have no inclination to ever change my surname again, there are just not enough boxes on forms, and anyway I have enough trouble remembering other peoples without trying to guess my own; so ifhome you hear me even contemplating it ,please bring me to my senses!