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48 in Wii years

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We just got our Wii Fit. My Wii Fit age is 48. This is calculated on the basis of my height, weight, proper age and ability to stay centered on the Wii balance board. As much as I’d like to grumble about this assessment I really can’t because I’m currently playing Mr Blue Sky by ELO on my iPod. No-one under the age of 40 will even know who ELO are and the smart over 40s won’t admit to knowing. Mr Blue Sky made the top 10 in 1977 and although it wasn’t quite as world-changing for me as first hearing Queen, it’s got a great beat, an operatic section, violins and a bit of piano and it never fails to put me in a good mood. Of course I’ll probably discover after writing this that the song is actually a euphemism for some hideous sex act and it’ll be Puff the Magic Dragon all over again. If only I’d studied the lyrics in Smash Hits instead of just mumbling along to the words until I could belt out ‘Mr Blue Sky’ again.

My excuse for downloading the song from iTunes is Dr Who. I realise this is a bit rich when it comes to excuses for being old and a bit geeky but the song was on an episode we watched last night and I’m sure that throughout his various incarnations the Doctor has been blamed for more atrocious acts than purchasing an ELO record. I do admit to slightly compounding the problem by also purchasing a Bee Gees song. I almost chose Staying Alive as I thought this would be a good running song but ended up with Tragedy from one of my favourite teenage albums, Spirits Having Flown. I listened to this over and over in my bedroom as a 13 year old, painfully aware that my life was a mere step away from a tragedy. If only the Bee Gees had recorded a single called Pitiful.

I should state that I didn’t actually pay for either song, I got two free credits for buying tickets to see Tom Waits in Houston next month – see, who’s the cool one now? Ok, so it’s Erik as he’s the big Tom Waits fan but I sleep with him so some of it must rub off on me. But not rub off in a euphemistic way. Except on his birthday.

I blame this whole age issue on my friend Melinda, because she’s only 30 and therefore deserves the blame. On the way to our race last weekend I had told her that I’m growing my hair out, as in letting it get longer. She misheard and thought I’d said I was greying my hair out, as in letting it go all grey. Oh what a hilarious error, if only a sitcom writer were riding along with us. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Melinda had questioned my decision, ‘really? you? grey hair?’, but she chose to accept the idea that at age 42 it really was the right time for me to stop kidding myself and let the old lady in me come bustling through. Next week I’ll be dropping the pretence of zips in favour of elasticated waistbands.

Fortunately I’m not as old as my 42 going on 80 year old husband who just asked me to turn Mr Blue Sky down because it’s too loud. He also yelled at me to tidy my room and take out the rubbish but I told him to stick it.