Aging ? Yes, I think I'll give it up!
When a catalogue arrives in pre-Christmas post and the main feature's a spray called Erecton which guarantees an immediate erection (complete package for about £300), you know the ages targeted.
The diagram makes the cross-section of a penis look like a dog's bone which has been chewed. But it's totally changed the life of one Steve Hartis of Stockport, who's in his 70s but now going out with a 39 year-old he met in a restaurant (maybe his spray was on the table , next to his cheque book).
I enjoy looking through these catalogues. They contain all you could possibly need for a contented old age, such as Sheet Suspenders and Mealtime Protector (the woman advertising this adult bib is obviously the same 39 year-old Steve met).
There are Detox Foot Pads, a spray to deter spiders and a Portable Urinal.
One day I might get to the stage where I'll require most of these and then I'll have to find a nice jungle to get lost in and hopefully bittten by some deadly insect......this won't happen readily in Merthyr!
It's only when I read on that I realise why I've been sent the catalogue full of quack remedies and gadgets......yes, I did order that last year!
No, not the spray or the most useful Waist Extenders which add inches to your trousers and save £££s, but the Tumble Dryer Converter.
Now if it had been a device to convert my tumble dryer into a time machine....
In fact , it was to put the hose into, rather than out the window.
(Steve from Stockport probably had hose problems before as well).
In actual fact my hose was the wrong size, so the device was useless and now clutters the garage.
Whenever I forget anything - such as ordering a pointless device, or major occasions like Christmas - I do begin to worry about the onset of Alzheimer's.
Like giving dreadful presents and teaching, this is part of the Jenkins family history.
My grandmother and many aunties and uncles suffered from it and it's an overriding fear.
Every day I spell the word 'WORLD' backwards to myself, except when I forget to do it because my brain-cells have been destroyed by :-
a. too much booze
b. vital eye-drops
c. X Factor, Casualty etc etc
d. watching Cardiff City
I can joke about it, yet know that what happened to my highly intelligent gran was nothing short of tragic.
She was very well-read and, even in her early 80s, used to do an extremely difficult crossword every day. She had a very successful career as a Primary teacher when many young women gave up their jobs to look after children.
I can't forget how she finished up in Bridgend Psychiatric Hospital on a locked ward, with absolutely no idea where she was or what day it was.
Drugged into passivity to make her manageable to over-worked staff, it was no way to end her days.
With age comes all manner of pills and potions, pains and ailments, yet I'm amazed when former pupils comment on my youthfulness.
One recently said that I looked younger than her.
It must've been that anti-aging serum Uvebindun that I bought from that catalogue last year for £250 along with the Converter!
Like my brother I sometimes look in the mirror and see my father there.
This only shows how bad my eye-sight has become, because I actually take after my mother's side of the family!
However, in any argument the worst possible insult is always - 'You're turning into your father!'
At that juncture the inherited vein bulges to the size of a crimson python and is ready to constrict anyone who could compare HIM to ME!
After all, I am nothing like him!
I've always modelled myself on his antithesis : the rule was, whatever he did must be wrong.
ZIG ZAG VEIN
I try not to look too closely in the mirror
to see him there, the frowning expression,
but especially that zig zag forehead vein.
It's the only legacy or heirloom
now his body's been dissected, analysed
and only a few photos remain.
A Humanist who didn't care for humans
or animals for that matter (the horse he hauled
along the main road till it bolted,dragging him).
I wish he'd left me instead his head of hair;
this jutting vein like a west Wales road
or that car he couldn't control.
In anger, a snake of beating blood
on his red face, spitting sweat
and driving to the skull's edge.
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