Three score years and ten

The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.   (Psalm 90.10)

According to that heart-warming verse from the Bible, it's downhill all the way from here, as I celebrate my 70th birthday. Not long to go now before I'm cut off and fly away.

"It's only a number," my good friends tell me, and of course they're right. In truth I'm only a day older than I was yesterday but this one does feel significant – perhaps the last one with a '0' at the end at which I will be fully fit. And I do feel fit. I'm not, nor ever will be, into sport or jogging, but I love rambling and climbing mountains, and rarely get exhausted on steep climbs.  I guess that's something of a surprise. When I was in my 30's I was sure that 70 year olds were old; I mean, really old. Now I am one, it doesn't feel like that.

One birthday card made me smile "You may be 70 today," it proclaimed, "but remember... you're still only 21 in Celsius!"  So '21' I shall be!

My family are being secretive about the birthday celebrations, though I do know that they'll mostly take place tomorrow when, I presume, my sons are not working. They all know and love me enough for me to be sure that I won't be embarrassed; I'm not one for boogieing into the night. Good food, I trust, will feature strongly.

Even the DVLA joined in the celebrations, bless 'em, by insisting that I have a new driving licence. However, they seem to have doubts over my longevity as they want me to renew it again in 2021. O ye of little faith.

I was born in 'Royal Week', just two days after Prince Charles. The newspaper article (left) goes on to record that my parents were presented with National Savings certificates (which I remember cashing in just before my wedding day) and enjoyed "a buffet supper, and the social continued with games and dancing to the music supplied by the Elite Players."  O my, they sure knew how to enjoy themselves in Bognor, though my dad wasn't much into dancing. Perhaps he just propped up the bar.

Since those heady days, as you may have noticed, the lives of the prince and I have followed different paths. I reckon that I've worn at least as well as him but I'll let you be the judge with this pair of 'then' and 'now' photos.