I fell over on Wednesday morning on my before work run, heading out into the greyish morning with stiff joints and feet that weren’t lifting quite as high as they needed to be. I jogged to the corner at the end of our road and nicked a paving stone and headed straight for the unforgiving concrete, soon to be ripped and torn and bruised and probably chipped of tooth. But I managed to right myself and throw all of the momentum and weight of my fall into a stationary car (actually the stationary car’s side mirror) which broke my fall. It also broke the side mirror. And now I have a bruise which is so colourful and beautiful that people are asking me about my tattoo. And then when they look closer and see it is just a massive bruise, they are me if I am alright and take a side glance at Mark.

This tiny accident is also about vulnerability and aging and a body that is on a downward slope. It’s my birthday in a few weeks and I’ll be 47, which is quite close to 50. It’s not just me who is getting older obviously – it’s also the kids who have all begun developing into not-kids, which is great and weird and sad and fun. I went to an 18th birthday party on Tuesday night for a darling friend’s darling daughter and it was full of these big not-kids who used to be one, and then three, and then eight, and who are now having gap years and sloping off to university and whose bodies are unblemished and completely beautiful and there are these flashes of braces in mouths and stick and poke tattoo drawings on inner arms and wrists and zits and round baby faces and no real hardness of jawline or muscle or structure underneath the soft unscarred skin. They are all a bit like beautiful cartoon characters, or jellyfish.

So. The old and the young combine. I feel it when I go into the office too – there are lots of people there who are just years and years – decades, actually – younger than me, and they don’t seem stricken by their own awkwardness or lack of experience and knowledge. I wander around the office trying to walk unstiffly, trying to seem at ease, and get up off of my chair after an hour’s meeting and try to smooth out the jerkiness of knee and hip joints that seize up whenever I stop moving. I also try to say the right things to the right people, but that doesn’t always work out either.

It’s the passing on of the baton, I guess. But before I got to that, I was hoping to hold the baton aloft for a bit first, feeling just for a little while that I had finally got there – the sweet plateau where the climbing was done and the view needed to be properly appreciated – before the descent. But I kind of missed that bit. I think I’m a bit jealous. How basic. How disappointing.

What might I want to pass on to the divine sea creatures if I could ever feel brave enough to? Here are ten things in the manner of a buzzfeed listicle:

1. Read more. Not just on your stupid phone. Books! Second hand books!
2. Don’t wait for things too long. I used to think I could become a red lipstick wearer when I got old enough, but I should have been experimenting and getting good at it when it was more fun and I was younger and this didn’t matter much. Not sure what I was waiting for, but it didn’t really ever arrive.
3. Boys – don’t worry about not being tall enough. Tallness is just an arbitrary thing that doesn’t impact attractiveness. Attractiveness is about being a fun, good, kind man. If someone is concerned about height, swipe left. And be funny. Be fun.
4. Don’t plan too pre or proscriptively. The world is unstable and characterised by change (twas actually ever thus). I was lucky to find the time, space and energy to have a big family and now have a serious job. I am doing both, imperfectly but very happily. It wasn’t planned and it was really unplannable.
5. Understand that every job, interaction, challenge and mistake are all part of the building blocks which form you and make you eventually kind of great at something. Take the job, say yes to things, treat everything as a learning opportunity. Nothing really lasts for long anymore so reach for the weird in-between job and meet the person for coffee and try your hand at the pottery wheel and spend an afternoon rollerblading. Present the thing at the virtual town hall. Try it out. Don’t be scared – it’s mostly going to be fine and you can get better for next time.
6. Be yourself but maybe work on being your better self. Work out the bits that need adjustment and learn appropriateness (eg I must stop swearing in meetings and also have given myself a serious talking to regarding that most boring thing of all – imposter syndrome – YAWN) but above all else, know that you bring something no one else does, and that thing, whatever it is, is precious and valuable.
7. Moderate your drinking because it is bad for inflammation, weight gain and painful joints (see para. 3).
8. Learn how to cook at least three things really well and invite people over. Hospitality and generosity are deeply rewarding ways of being. Always bring something to another person’s thing, and always do a little bit of clearing up.
9. Cakes make people happy and they aren’t as difficult as you might think. Learn, again, three recipes (one gluten free one is a good idea – google ‘coconut and almond cake’ and shove fruits into the top and everyone will think you are gifted).
10. Share compliments to people and give good feedback at work when it feels right. Pass on thanks for positive interactions and fun times. Always send a thank you after a party. Be gracious and people will remember you and ask you again next time. It costs nothing to be kind.

Right. Turkey. Photos.

All of us at the cafe above Cold Water Bay:

The entire Turkey crew:

Very warm nights:

Cooling off at Gemiler:

Me jumping off a cliff:

Casper jumping off a boat:

When we got back from holiday, Otis turned 11:

Casper started 6th form:

And I fell over and bruised my arm: