Someone sent me this cartoon last week. I guess it’s of our younger selves we think we see ourselves as. I’m going to see Morrissey in concert next week, for the first time. I remember thinking back in 1984 he  and the Smiths were for the kids. Now , nearly 40 years on I’m wondering if Morrissey’s still interesting. Incidentally , none of my friends seem to think he is – which means I have a spare- henry@agewage.com – 19th March (Hammersmith).

For those that don’t know me , I’m 61 and a family man (I’ve forgotten what a date is).

If I was 22 again, I wouldn’t be writing this blog, I’m sure I’d be finding ways to get my ideas out on Tic-Toc or Snap and amplify through Facebook and other people’s blogs. I doubt I’d be too interested in linked in which seems to have little or no traction with people under 25.

Somewhere, there is a folder full of the poems, plays and articles I wrote in my twenties that I never tried to get published. I have no interest in finding them, nor have I much interest in finding my younger self through Morrissey.

I’ve seen enough young bands recently to see that rock and roll isn’t dead and that it is reinventing itself just as it was in the early eighties.

Advice to my older self

We can’t be that younger person we admire, we can’t run as fast or see as clearly and we certainly don’t have the same energy in bed.

I can’t reinvent myself as the oldest kid on tic-toc and I don’t want to be in the mosh-pit at the Hammersmith Apollo, desperate to hear the hits of the mid eighties.

I don’t want my son to be like me and I don’t want to be my son. But when I look at myself in the mirror, I want to see a face that to me is “forever young”.