Tag: Midlife Crisis

A Life More Ordinary

~ Mr Shit50s ~ Leave a comment

Why did it take me until I’m 50-something to admit I’m nothing special?

Original images: Pexels/Pixabay and Mabel Amber/Pixabay

I HAD A very dull – and slightly unpleasant – epiphany on the road to Lidl yesterday.

I finally conceded that I was just an ordinary guy. A nobody, in fact.

I’d just bought stuff to top up the Ocado delivery – sausages, detergent wipes, a small pack of rocket.

I self-check-out-ed and walked home the way I always walk: past the library, up the slope and the alley behind the secondary school.

There was a lake-like puddle near the end of our road and I scurried past, so as not to get marinated by the passing cars.

And thought: “I’m so ordinary.”

I wonder: has this flash of insight ever happened to you (assuming you, too, are ordinary), or did you always know?

Please tell me that it’s not just me that’s been walking around for 50-something years, doing painfully ordinary things – but still believing, deep down, that they were somehow special? 

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(Don’t) Push It

~ Mr Shit50s ~ Leave a comment

Trying to change career in my 50s is giving me panic attacks on top of my midlife crisis. I need to remember that I still have time to change.

Pete Tong, Arthur Fowler, Jacques Chirac and Leon Haywood in a shed, thinking about social media

I COULDN’T HELP IT –  I had to get out of the house.

My pulse was quickening, and I felt light-headed and anxious. So I slung a leg over the bike and raced to the allotment.

Like Arthur Fowler, I know that when things go well and truly Pete Tong, it’s time to head down Me Shed.

But why did I need consoling?

I’d been on Facebook promoting this blog, you see. And social media always does strange things to me…

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Heavy Metal, Top Of The Class!

~ Mr Shit50s ~ Leave a comment

If rock ‘n’ roll’s never gonna die, it’s my kids who’ll be keeping it alive…

A Photoshop collage of Heavy Metal music images
Original images: Pete Linforth and Clker-Free-Vector-Images/pixabay.

“Oh no!” I said, sitting in bed, reading the news. “Neil Peart died.”

“What?” said the Missus.

“Neil Peart died. He was the drummer in Rush.”

“Tchah!” she said.  “When you went ‘Oh no!’ like that, I thought it was something important.

“My life hasn’t been affected in any way by Rush. I couldn’t name a single Rush song.”

Two thoughts occurred to me at this point: No. 1 was that this was probably an inadequate epitaph for Peart – a clever, kind man once voted Rolling Stone’s 4th best drummer of all time.

No. 2 was: will Heavy Metal ever get the respect it deserves?

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