Firstly I’d better clarify the title, I’ve got nothing against people over 50, I am one, the title really means should I bother to make any more friends after I am 50 years old? I’m not so sure.

My son joined the rugby team squad in Malvern this year, for my part in the escapade I joined the whats app group, and now reading and keeping up with my notifications seems like a full time job, especially as Christmas is on the way, I said he could come to the boys Christmas doo, but sadly Im away and he’s 14 and so I can’t leave him to sort his own shit out, he doesn’t tie his own shoe laces for god’s  sake. I got him a shoe horn, its one of the best inventions known to man, like the soft close toilet seat, and they still make them in that kind of fake plastic jade looking material, probably plastic. I’ll get him a clothes brush and trouser press for Christmas. He says he wants a pool table and cash for track suits, but he doesn’t know shit. He’s not going to be able to go to the Laser tag anyway, so i’ll have to say I cant make it, he’ll be gutted and now as missing out on the parents bash, we’ll have to miss out on the Laser guns. But don’t these folk have other things to be getting on with? I’ve got an incredibly busy life it seems and I didn’t realise, and will probably be regarded with as much interest as lichen on the tarnished metal bars kids and adults alike lean against and somersault over on the touchline, in the rain.

I’ve reached this age, not a certain age, but think to myself, I really don’t need to throw myself headfirst into this Rugby social thing, despite having a massive fear of missing out my entire life. Good to note this weekend, Saturday Night, when Mrs T and I journeyed into town with friends for dinner and beer, that my son went for a sleepover at his mates and stayed up till 5am; last one awake, just so he didn’t miss anything. so i’m going to sit down and work out this convoluted Rugby chat business, who is who, and what is going on. I’m sure there’s some nice folk on the touchline but flipping hell, the weather is awful, the heating is now on chez moi and I’d rather be sat on the sofa. Last week I took him down to the Rugby, wrote this tripe in the club house, the heating wasn’t on, people were wearing coats and about 50 hi viz clad runners surrounded my corner, discussing who was chasing who for that evening’s hashing (look it up).

Oh its Black and Whiter Tuesday too, so lap it up suckers.