Hello

I'm Nick, and I'm 54.

When I was in my teens, 54 was 'old'. Some of my younger colleagues at work think I'm old, but I feel young.  Probably about 33.  I still buy the NME to keep in touch with ‘the kids’, I quite fancy some of those skinny trousers with turn ups that show your ankles (possibly in lemon), and I've tried some of those big glasses that are all rage at the moment and been tempted.  But I'm 54, and none of these are appropriate to a man of my age.

I realise I haven't got much to grumble about.  I'm in good health, have a loving (and lovely) family, close friends, an interesting job and no money worries.  However, more and more I struggle with the challenges that are before me as I get older:

• I'm frustrated that my body can't do what it did 10 years' ago.  In fact, just recently, I'm frustrated that my body can't do what it did 10 days' ago.
• I'm sad that I have minor things wrong with me that will probably never get better. Tinnitus is a constant unwelcome companion, my knees are knackered and as for my stomach, you really don't want to know.
• I'm sad that I'll probably never hear music again that excites me like the first time I heard the Beatles, David Bowie or the Sex Pistols. I keep hoping and searching, but it's probably not going to happen.
• I'm worried that I have no life plan for my retirement. As things stand, my retirement will involve getting up late, larking about on the internet until Channel 4 News comes on and then telly until bedtime with a few glasses of red
• I'm worried that my wife and I haven't got kids to look after us in our old age. In particular, I worry whether anyone will be there to wipe the dribble from my chin and change my colostomy bag.
• I struggle to provide support and help for my elderly relatives.  My mother can be stubborn and narrow-minded when we talk about how we can make her life more comfortable and happy. And I know I'm exactly like her.
• I think about what dying will be like.  Although, having watched some of the BBC’s Diamond Jubilee coverage, I think I now have a better idea.

I am full of admiration for my internet chums who can express their thoughts in a concise and entertaining way in their blogs (I particularly recommend the small selection of bloggers in the right hand column).  So I've decided to put some of my thoughts about ageing down in a blog, simply to get things off my chest.  I've toyed with a blog in the past, but it's gone the way of the bicycle, ukulele and Spanish lessons on the dusty shelf marked Nick's Short-lived Projects.  But this time it will be different.  I promise.

PS The title of this blog comes from an Alice Roosevelt Longworth quote and sums up my desire to get my soufflé back to the size it used to be.  She also came up with those all-time classics "If you haven't got anything nice to say about anybody, come sit next to me" and "Fill what's empty. Empty what's full. Scratch where it itches". I suspect she would have been great to know.