Many writers have shared their thoughts with the public:

"There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they'll take you." - Beatrix Potter

"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." - Anaïs Nin

"Sharing your writing, being enlarged by others' writing, is what makes you feel famous." - Gretchen Bernabei

"Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain-climbing, treadmill and childbirth." - Edna Ferber

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." - Ben Franklin

"One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones to form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment." - Hart Crane

"There are three rules for writing. Unfortunately, no one can agree what they are." - W. Somerset Maugham

Baby Boomer - Heading South

"What shall I do with this absurdity -
O heart, O troubled heart-this caricature,
Decrepit age that has been tied to me
As to a dog's tail?"

W.B. Yeats poignantly expressed the laments of old age in his poem The Tower. As a baby boomer, I can now identify with this decrepitude. While middle-aged spread sneaked up as a gradual accumulation over the years, the signs of old age seemed to arrive all at once. One day I woke up and everything had headed south. Once plump cheeks sagged into jowls worthy of a hound dog. Eyelids drooped, boobs and bottom suddenly deflated and slumped overnight, like shares in the global financial crisis. Now, when I peer in the bathroom mirror in the morning, my mother's wrinkled face gazes back at me in surprise.

Should I grow old gracefully? I used to think so, but now that I'm grounded at Saggy Street Substation on life's journey, I've changed my mind. One Powerball and I'm off for a tummy tuck and a boob job.

With the sagging skin and muscles, come the aches and pains resulting from tendons and ligaments stretched out of shape, like the elastic in old knickers. I can no longer reach down to the bottom shelf in my kitchen, where I store the vintage port and the red wine. Thank God for nimble grandchildren, who happily retrieve unreachable items for Grandma. I can still get down on my knees, but can only get up again with difficulty. God has to be thanked from a standing position these days.

Most of my friends take Lipitor, the best selling drug in pharmaceutical history. Many of them subscribe to other magic formulae to stave off the ravages of ageing: Glucosamine for their joints; fat reduced milk; fish oil capsules for omega 3; almonds and flaxseed to lower cholesterol; blueberries for their alleged age-defying qualities, which apparently help prevent memory loss, relieve eyestrain and thwart urinary tract infections; and finally, dark chocolate which is full of flavinoid anti-oxidants to help clear the arteries.

No thanks. The dark chocolate - in fact any kind of chocolate - appeals. But you can keep the rest. None of this skimmed milk and snake oil for me.

Memory loss is another challenge that confronts baby boomers. When putting away the shopping yesterday, there was no room on the pantry shelf for the 2kg bag of sugar I bought on special, because I had already bought one three days earlier and promptly forgotten about it.

I unload the washing machine, then head to the bedroom for some clothes hangers. By the time I get to the wardrobe, I can't remember why I went in there.

After a few moments dithering, I start another chore. Half an hour later I rediscover the wet washing in the basket. I head to the bedroom for some clothes hangers. By the time I get to the wardrobe, I can't remember why I went in there...

When trying on sandals in a shoe store recently, I discovered I had gone shopping in my slippers.

When I start vacuuming the lawn at 3am, I expect the family will finally put me out to pasture. Perhaps in one of those Lifestyle Villages, where slim, fit-looking, well-dressed couples frolic on the foreshore, swim in the pool, show off in the gym or play golf and tennis - none of them in slippers.

Still, I'm not complaining. Well, I am really. But, even a geriatric cloud has a silver lining. So far I have listed only the drawbacks of being an old fart. There are positives.

The greatest joy is retirement after a lifetime of work. Although I am as busy now as I was when working full-time and juggling family commitments, I now have the blissful option of curling up in my comfy recliner-rocker all day, with a good book, a packet of Tim Tams and a cappuccino. I can indulge myself totally. Yes, please.

I see a lot more of my grandchildren. I collect them from school, attend their assemblies and treat them to outings during the school holidays. I take them to Rottnest Island in the off-season, with a 20% senior's discount.

The Seniors Card is almost worth the saggy boobs and wrinkly bits for the sweeteners it brings. The state and local government rebates are certainly worth having. My daughter enviously noted the senior's rebate on my council rates bill pinned on the fridge.

When I worked in the city, I had to drive in peak hour traffic and pay a small fortune for parking. Now, I travel free on public transport and no longer have the hassle of finding a parking spot or paying substantial parking fees.

There are a whole host of other subsidies and discounts for seniors. When in Fremantle, I often enjoy the senior's discount meal of fish and chips, coffee and cake or gelato in Cicerello's overlooking the harbour. Life is full of small joys.

There are interesting newspapers specifically for seniors. They do have some disquieting adverts for funeral plans, bequests and special loo seats for washing and blow-drying one's nether regions, but that aside, they feature fantastic travel discounts and opportunities. Interstate rail journeys, cruises, trips and bus tours. The world is now my oyster.

A whole travel industry has grown up around baby boomers. There are marketing guides on the internet; The Essential Guide to Cashed Up Baby Boomers and How to Cash in on Baby Boomers, all salivating over the best methods of parting us from our superannuation funds and allocated pensions.

I am eagerly planning an extended trip next summer (Covid-19 permitting), when my equally saggy sister will join me on trains and boats and planes. I may even invest in a campervan and join the grey nomads. Like my double chin, sagging bosom and belly, I too will be heading south.