Oh, No. I’m Getting Old

I have joined the stereotypical British grouping which includes all those who’ve reached “maturity”. Without realising it, I’ve slipped into a social hierarchy I once poked fun at my parents for being amongst. I don’t know if this is something to do with society itself or if a mental clock has just reached midnight and something awful has happened.

I’ve started listening to Radio 2.

It could be worse. I don’t think Terry Wogan’s all that good in a morning. The guy covering for him now is much better. However, I’m finding myself listening to the lunchtime discussions and phone-ins and enraptured by Steve Write of an afternoon, especially the factoids.

Even the music’s not bad, with even less chart-festering claptrap (claptrap?! See? I even said “claptrap”) than the “classics” stations. Plenty of oldies, decent DJs and lots of chat around the records. Oh, and no bloody adverts.

If you need me, I’ll be at the doctor’s getting my ‘flu jab.