Quasimodo, ring those bells, son!

Old Father Time catches up with the best of us. As a sporty type of individual I still swat a few forehands on the tennis court and feint a few Mols turns on the five-a-sides pitches. The aches and pains from my exertions are put to the sword by that old placebo, Arnica Gel. Works wonders you know. Sorry for the product placement, we all have to make a living.

While still possessing my sporting prowess ( aye right- sub-editor comment) my concerns are of the more vain category. I mean you read about it and you even have a few chats with close friends about it but you never think it’ll happen to you. Then you believe that the mirror, mirror on the wall is lying. But you’re kidding yourself on. It’s a fact. You’ve just accumulated your first wrinkle.

Dearie me
I always thought I was going to be
footloose and wrinkle free

Forgoing the problem for the moment it’s always good to plant a rhyme in a blog. It’s a feel good thing. Poetry is close to my heart though like a thousand and one other things I’m dreadful at it.

So there it sat. A lone wrinkle. Looking for a buddy. Call me cruel if you want, from this day forth I will deny the crease a companion. There will be no more laughing or smiling from me. No grimacing or frowning. No eyebrow lifting a la Roger Moore. My face will be set in stone.

As I sit stony-faced with just the one wrinkle at my computer screen I’ll give you some news about my week. While visiting Tesco on the look out for Coca-Cola I ran across, not literally as I’m a dab hand with the dodgy wheeled shopping trolley I’m just like a rodeo rider that controls a bucking bull, an old school friend that turned the boys heads back in the day. Well, I say friend she actually knocked me back for a date in those adolescent days; a reason for this was never given, one can only guess.

This awkward moment from the past was forgotten as customary hellos were followed by customary how are you getting ons. It was a short conversation. She left and I stuttered on my way with the metal juddering pony contraption. It hit me how much the girl had changed in thirty years. Weathered, she had. She wasn’t the beauty she was then. To be fair, neither am I, what with my solitary wrinkle and all that.

The memories came flooding back of that unrequited love. I was Cyrano de Bergerac and she was Roxane, the red light of my life. The self pity I went through. Famously, George Costanza said that pity is very underrated. I’ll go along with that. Costanza knows best.

Around the time of my rejection I went through a phase of playing this song by Cliff Richard. After seeing the object of my youthful affections I went back to my old tune. It didn’t have the same emotional impact on me but seeing it in a new light I think it’s a cracking little number written by no less than Neil Diamond. And Cliff is my mum’s favourite.

So each night I’d dream that you’re mine
And wake each morning only to find
That I’m just another guy

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11 Comments on “Quasimodo, ring those bells, son!”


  1. I'd no inkling of your wrinkling JW!

    All this brooding on the passage of time, sporting prowess, unrequited love, and Cliff Richard is one thing or four…. and as an aside, let's not forget the poem, which makes it five aside.

    Yes, I can see you're in trouble. But you've come to right place. Trust me, I'm an expert.

    It's called a midlife crisis, which is best resolved by having a baby. Having a baby involves a twinkle in the eye as opposed to a wrinkle, and you get a midwife to add to your midlife.

    It's also good fun to colour-in your wrinkles. I use Quink ink to inkle my wrinkles.
    🙂

  2. JW10 Says:

    Nice one, CI. Especially liked the five aside quip. What I must take issue with is this midlife crisis thingy. Midlife? I still have a good hundred years ahead of me.


  3. Hello JW, whose Enormous Prowess is surely world-renowned! And CI – what a fab idea is the Quinking! (have made a note just in case I ever need it…).

    Yesterday at the Mall I was accosted by Sabrina of the Special SaltPotions that could Change My Life, and one tub only cost our weekly grocery shop.

    When she saw my reaction she said 'can I ask… are you a student or… Retired?' NO! She didn't believe me, even though it's flaming well True.

    She then whispered several other ways she could give me discount if I promised Not to Tell…

    Who the hell would I tell I'd been inveigled into buying a tub of extorionate splatt and my face still looks like This?

    (It's on my birthday list).


  4. Hi Dolores,
    If you're feeling very blue
    Quink ink can do face splatts too.

    🙂


  5. Hoh Heetley Hoh, CI – I now go Boldly & Merrily splatted unto the day's stuff

  6. JW10 Says:

    Dolores and CI, you're being cruel now. Both your funny comments made me smile and now my wrink count has doubled. As Bamber G was wont to say “This is your starter for ten”.


  7. O woad is me !
    🙂

  8. Expat Says:

    Late to the party again. The joys of being a working woman.

    Personally, I have nary a wrinkle. I just have laughter lines in odd places. And mid-life crises are things men dreamed up as an excuse to buy a sports car (um…didn't you do that, CI? Buy a sports car? ). Women don't have time for such frivolities. We're far too busy getting face lifts and tummy tucks and such..or so the tabloids tell me. I wouldn't know since I can't even afford to get my grey hair dyed. But I'm in good company. Dame Judi Dench is flauntingly grey, and I'm sure she could afford a quick trip to a West End salon. But No! She is proud of her age. And when I get up the nerve to spray my hair pink, too, I shall flaunt like there's no tomorrow.

    The Cliff vid is banned from US distribution because of copyright. Never mind. I can find a picture of him now (and amazingly he'll look just like he did in the 60s…gotta love that plastic surgeon) and pretend he's singing just for me.

  9. JW10 Says:

    It’s fashionable to be late, Expat. Welcome to the party. No fancy sports cars on the horizon for me but you never know when that mid-life crisis will occur so stay alert for the tell-tale vroom vroom blog. Then let me know that I’m going through a critical phase.

    Shame about the Cliff vid. To compensate I’ve inserted a Michael Mols tribute. MM was a brilliant striker who never fully recovered from knee ligament damage early in his Rangers career. He is still revered by the fans. The famous Mols turn features at 1.08 and 3.33 minutes of the footage. (One day I’ll master this turn)

    Mols is pronounced Moles and this is one letter out from Moyes. I bet you hope Moyes turns out as good as Sir Alec.

  10. Expat Says:

    Thank you so much! Mols is new to me. Great goal at 3:59, too. Off to google him. Sad but true…It's 2:45 am and insomnia has me in it's grip once again, so footie history is a nice diversion.


  11. Cliff Richard is plasticly amended Expat? Nooooh! (they're doing the neck next time, then)? No – he's beautifully preserved.

    The Knife is too scary for me (for the moment) but I've become a Compulsive Obsessive hair dyer now – (Radiant)Red again yesterday; blond interminglings next week; bag over my 'ead week after that.

    In love with Michael Mols and his twinkle.


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