Monday 21 March 2022

On being 68

 It's been lovely to hear from so many friends and colleagues on my birthday - thank you all for your good wishes...

68  years old.  It's an achievement, but the number fills me with trepidation. My stepfather and first jazz (and food) mentor Ron Weldon died at this age. And I learn via Facebook numerologists that the start dates of all world wars, including the current one, add up (with some 'finessing') to 68, that 6+8 =14, 1+4 = 5, and that 5 can be unlucky. In China.

Also, as a keen bus child in London, I confess I never cared for the 68. Yes, in theory, it went all the way from Chalk Farm in the North to Herne Hill in the deep South, and this was exciting. But in reality the Euston to Chalk Farm leg was a despised and neglected outer limb that eventually withered and died.  I liked the 24 well enough, for Pimlico, and also the 31, for Notting Hill, and the 53 (Blackheath to Camden Town) was spectacular, but I went off it one Saturday after they kicked us all off at Oxford Circus, and I had to rollerskate the last few miles home in a heatwave. 

My favourite by far was the 74, which took you from Camden Town, past the Zoo, down through Baker St, Marble Arch, Knightsbridge, Kensington and Fulham, and all the way to Putney, where my real father Colyn Davies lived with his girlfriend Jean and her parents.  I'd get this bus most weekends to go and visit them, and the conductors all knew me and kept an eye out for me, as I was only 8, and travelling alone.

On the other hand, going back to China, 5 is the number of stones in weight I have lost since my BP episodes in 2017 (BP = Blood Pressure AND Bell's Palsy - surely no coincidence!), so maybe 68 (6+8 =14, 1+4 = 5) isn't such a bad age after all. I'd like to go as far as 5.5, but I'll stop before 6, even though this would represent a third of my previous body weight, because this would represent the number 69 (6+9 = 15, 1+5 = 6). My real father Colyn died at that age. I have a vague memory of a trip on a 69 bus, but no strong feelings either way about it.

70, 71 and 72 are unknown quantities, and 73 was always an unremarkable central journey, so I'll be in touch again in 2028, when I shall look forward to being 74.

After Putney Colyn and Jean moved out to Wimbledon, and this meant a change to another bus, so I'll be posting again in 2047. I should be 93 by then.