Because you're worth it?

Old is bad. Young is good. In our western world, we are constantly told that the ageing process is something unnatural, worth avoiding at all costs.

It upsets me to hear about how old people have been objected to ageism. A TV presenter finds himself sacked, because fresher and trendier shoots want to enter the studio. An old lady - somebody's Nan - is put at the back of the hip operation queue, even though the pain is unbearable and the injury will now become worse, before it gets better. Young first - old last. Age before beauty does not apply to the real world.

Repeating their mantra, celebrities tell me I should get rid of my wrinkles, plump up my lips, squeeze in my tummy and push up my breasts. It's stay-up and hold-in. Fake tan and white teeth. I am not all that concerned personally - I can take it. The relatively few wrinkles I have gained so far, I intend to keep - they're mine! No, I feel more sorry for young girls who grow up under an immense pressure to be perfect. They start worrying about getting older, already in their teens. That cannot be right!  

What about men? Well, there are of course the Berlusconis of this world who do everything to live up to that young image. However - and correct me if I'm wrong - men seem slightly less concerned about their vanity. 

So rooted is our fear of old age, that it is also reflected in our language. We use euphamisms like 'elderly' or 'of a certain age' - instead of saying 'old', which is what we really mean. 

And, how often do we see old lovers or heroes in a blockbuster film? 

I wish we could all be proud of ourselves and be young at heart. You don't have to go to extremes to do it. Not everyone can bungy jump or parachute at the age of 100. I think it is more a case of not giving up, to look at the future even if there is just tomorrow left. 

Old people shouldn't have to fight for their rights. They have accumulated an enormous collective experience which we should make use of, for everybody's future well-being. 

Old people have lived. They know things. Let us respect them for who they are.

Smells Like Teen Spirit

Sometimes in life, feelings come back to you.

Back in the 70s, in my home town of Arvika, Sweden, some clever friends of mine started an alternative music festival. Festivals were the 'in thing' then - as they indeed still are. In the 70s, they were even more so, if they were anti commercial and alternative. ABBA was not an option, as it were.

The Viksholmen festival was just about as alternative as it got. It took place on a little peninsula 'extension' from a public park - accessible only by a small strip of land. The public footpath took you to a small place with fur trees, stones and a natural, arena style stage - as made for a good gig or two.

From Viksholmen, you could look back across our small lake, to the town itself with its street lights reflections shining yellow in the water. I remember thinking it looked just like pictures I had seen of New York's skyline. (Yeah right...) Many summer nights were spent there with friends, during long nordic summer nights which never got dark. Music, guitars, open fire, midge bites, singing together, love and.. refreshments. We only went home once the next day newspaper delivery boys had come out and the birds had started to twitter. 

The Festival was a big thing. Alternative rock bands from all over Sweden came to perform at this little stage, revellers gathered from far afield and special T-shirts were made. Wow. Huge.

I remember the excitement I felt somewhere deep down in my guts. A fantastic, pioneering feeling.

Since then, new generations have taken over. The Viksholmen festival is still going, but its bigger brother The Arvika Festival has just finished another successful event with 22,500 tickets sold and Depeche Mode as their main attraction. 

http://www.arvikafestivalen.se/node/1030

But, as I'm now living far away from Viksholmen and Arvika - I recently realised you can get that feeling in your guts again. I don't think age has got anything to do with it. You either feel it - or you don't. 

I did, when listening to Blur in Hyde Park last Friday. Song 2 hit me stright in solar plexus. 

Wooo hooo!