I propose an Olympics for the over-70s (further sections for over-80s, -90s, 100s).
To avoid heart attacks and other forms of dropping dead, the sports would be eg toe-nail cutting, best dishwasher loading, memorising shopping lists, stone-paper-scissors, TV switcher use etc.
How about 'floating' instead of swimming?
Window-shopping
Chocolate avoiding.
Picking a fight (verbal) over things that are really nothing to argue about: eg is the best route the M4 or the A4? What’s the best anti-dandruff shampoo?
Tuneless whistling
Dressing gown belt threading through the loops.
Prune stone spitting
Leg crossing to the rhythm of your own irritated tutting. Extra points for eyebrow raising.
The most irritated ‘Mm?’ contest.
Pot plant watering - includes category for leaf-brushing.
Remembering great-aunts’ and great uncles’ names - with dates.
Primary school teachers’ names remembering
Unnecessary panic contest
Recounting queueing in the post office stories competition. Also allowed: recounting ‘girl on the till at Sainsbury’s’ stories; and ‘you’ll never guess who I met outside the place that used to be the shoe shop’.
Illness and operation re-telling competitions. Must include exact lists of medications, dosages and number of times per day administered.
‘I once met that woman in the hamburger ad...’ competition. Must a) be an ad or programme you misremember b) you must have forgotten the person’s name c) you must get one bit wrong about their appearance eg hair colour.
Cheek wobbling. Two categories: a) with breath alone b) using thumb and forefinger.
Extra strong mint cracking.
Competition to see how much more can you eat or drink after you've said, 'No more for me, thanks'?
The length of time you can keep going staring at an envelope and saying, 'I wonder who this is from...'
The how-long-will-it-take-you-to-summon-up-the-chutzpah-to-tell-the-neighbour-what's-been-bugging-you competition.
Peeking out from behind curtains. Winner on basis of most seen, least amount of curtain drawn. VAR needed.
Announcing cures for piles competition
Bus missing. Nearest to the bus before it moves off wins.
Radiator feeling.
The competition is to combine radiator-touching with audible intake of breath, puzzled look at the ceiling, going to boiler, shaking head and going back to the same radiator. Marks for degree of puzzlement not for speed of action.
Boiler timer-setting with a previously unseen boiler.
Referring to products that don't exist anymore. Disqualification for referring to one that does still exist.
Cushion plumping.
Pocket fumbling
Judges hand competitors 20 objects to scatter randomly through 6 pockets. On a shout of the object’s name, competitor has to retrieve it.
Most number of foods or drinks can the competitor claim a) give you the runs b) ‘bind’ you c) give you wind d) make you wee. Begin list with, ‘My mother always said...’
Going with offspring to their new home: sniff - can you smell damp? Tread test - weak floorboards? Check contract - returnable deposit? It’s a kind of heptathlon with know-all doom factored in.
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1/ To my mind, what's significant about Williamson and Latin is that he has intervened in the languages-in-secondary-schools debate with the mention of just one language - Latin - in a situation where modern langs are downgraded at univs, not compulsory at GCSE.
2/ The idea that offering Latin to state school students will combat the elitism of private education rests on the idea that imitating private education will do the job. Many people here suggest that getting class sizes down to the sizes in private education would be better.
3/ We have to ask why out of all languages did Williamson select Latin.? Of course it's a 'foundation' language and is the root of all 'Romance' languages but there are others including the foundation language of English - Old English (formerly known as Anglo-Saxon).
Now that they've replaced my own lens
with a plastic one,
every day the view through my eyes is
different:
a new blur to my right
a brightened slash in the corner
and two trees where there was one yesterday.
At first
as I walked to the hospital door
it was all seasons of mists
without much fruitfulness
but perhaps that was the sticking plaster
over the transparent eye patch
making it not transparent
and the other eye is always Clint Eastood anyway
playing misty for me.
As Vik the surgeon
took out my own lens
he said, 'Fat.'
We had looked at it on the scan
and I imagined it between his fingers
like a button
(I once cut a sheep's lens in half
in Biology)
and then he threw that bit of me
in a bin.
Unwanted spare part
I stared at the arc lights