My eternal struggle with them looks like a piece of kabuki theatre. Frequently I start talking to them, in a somewhat similar manner to you.
Plus getting up to pee in the night.

I'd say when I was around 25. I'm 40 now, going on 65.

I remember thinking "Who could fall for this crap?" only to see the generation below me go nuts for them.

I'll be 46 in a few weeks and have noticed I'm up some nights standing bleary-eyed and dazed at the toilet pee-ing.

Also, I find the word 'Curmudgeon' springing to mind as a label for myself as I look at the young of today glottal-stopping and downloading the 'She's So Luv-er-lee'-type shite and think it's a song.

I hit things. I bang my computer mouse up and down on it's pad repeatedly if the hourglass spins for too long. Because that makes it go quicker you see... If my PC takes too long to shut down I keep on clicking the Shut Down option over and over until it makes a pained high-pitched 'weeeeeeeeeeee' noise.

And yet I don't feel old. I'm still 15 inside in many many ways. For instance, I bought myself a Bounty Bar recently and forgot all about till last night when I remembered it was in my coat pocket. Brewed a nice cup of coffee and settled on the sofa to enjoy it. Mrs B suddenly appeared, saw the Bounty and rather than share it with her I immediately stuffed both halves in my gob while she dug me in the ribs in mock outrage. I laughed so hard I had to spit it all out.

Grumpy Old Man-Child. That's me.

shouting at the car radio - "What on earth is this dreadful racket?" the other day. And I meant it. It's the point that my full metamorphosis into my dad (God rest him) was complete.

For me it was when I was asked "What can I get for you there fella?" in a Caffe Nero. I'm 42. What's with the "fella" routine?

I told the FPO and she confirmed the worst - I am a grumpy old man.

A few mornings ago, I said good morning to a young colleague in the lift as I held the doors open for him. As he walks around the office with large headphones on, he did not feel the need to even raise an eyebrow by way of acknowledgement. My outrage at this made me feel like an old git.

when I was young

It occured to me that I was becoming an old git when I realised I make strange noises when I pick something up off the ground. I sound just like my dad did. When he bent over he made a drawn out groan that sounded just like this, "Erk." and now so do I.

to speak more clearly.

Frowning at gum.

Tut-tutting at chart music.

Listening to 'Fish Out Of Water' and saying things like 'now that's a proper bass sound' to uninterested step-daughter.

Cursing uninterested step-daughter.

Wearing slippers.

I seem to catch myself pulling odd faces at times of thought and concentration. Or is that just me?

that every other driver on the road is either dangerously timid, pottering around paying no attention to their wing mirrors, or dangerous reckless, doing 40 through 30 limits and sitting an inch from my bumper. This only leaves me, doing it right.

My preferred bending-down-to-pick-things-up sound is "Hup!"

Walking down the stairs a little more carefully
Dozing off while watching the telly
Visiting garden centres on a Sunday morning
Thinking " Jaysus, that young wan is going to freeze wearing that "

Iv'e forgotten what I was going to write and I need a pee if I can just get off this bloody sofa without assistance.We're all doomed,doomed I tell ye!

I'm only 32, but I can see a life of wild-eyebrowed, mismatched-jumpered, bifocaled outrage coming steadily down the tracks at me. I expect to board that particular train in earnest (and perpetuity) within the next few years. As it is, I only take the occasional day trip.

All I ask is that the FPO take a shotgun to me if I ever consider voting Tory.

which is no big thing... except I'm 23. I think I spend too much time on here, you're making me old before my time. In my last job, I was nicknamed "Grandpa" :-(

A variation on one of the themes. My Apple TV wifi stopped working reliably recently. After much messing around and cursing, I realized that I didn't really care, and made a cup of tea.

and not finding one decent song. Bemoaning to the FPO (who doesn't give a flying one) that we don't get the excellent US version of VH1 instead of the God-awful insipid video jukebox that passes for VH1 in the UK and Ireland.

Realising that finally, I'm not going to make the grade in professional sport (or music) and that I worryingly spend too much attention in trimming my eyebrows.

I am (just) 40. - Even typing that feels bad.

"only 44"

lol

... I bought a wireless connection for my computer. Couldn't connect it, left it in its box, it's been there now for three years.

That's surely a bit old?

Plus I make noises when I stand up or sit down.

... (including grammar). eg. My wife loads the dishwasher from the front and not the back. In fact, I'm pretty sure she stands several paces away and lobs in the crockery. Also, when checking into hotels, why do they give you a crap room when a better room is available? Do they think I prefer to sleep in the broom cupboard?

the Sky Plus box, when it takes far too long to get it together on first waking up (bit like myself actually), with the best epithet I ever heard from a friend's dad, many years ago now...

ARSEHOLE of a machine... Usually followed by my 15 year old son thumping down the stairs, giving me a raised-eyebrow quizzical look, then quietly fixing the damn thing. He shakes his head at me again, and gently walks back upstairs to listen to his god-awful chart tripe.

I am my dad - and I am a woman. Worrying.

I constantly forget that a lot of my workmates are considerably younger than me and so get annoyed when they fail to appreciate my inspiring and stimulating range of cultural reference points.

When I explain what I'm talking about, some young whippersnapper never fails to point out that they were only 5 years old at the time so how could they have known. This is then followed by a short period of confusion period as I try to work out how someone who has a full-time job with responsibility for important matters had not even started school in the early 1990s.

I then get annoyed at myself for being a grumpy old bugger before his time. I turned 39 last month so technically I'm still a wean.

the phrase "Kids these days", with a roll of the eyes, at a worrying rate...I turn 35 tomorrow.

Glaring at people who park in disabled spots in supermarket car parks when they're not meant to, or dropping their McDonalds litter out of their car windows. I don't say anything, just glare a little and enter the shop fuming, then I forget about it as I become preoccupied with people who stand still with their trolley blocking the entire aisle, and the stupid layout of the shop, and did you notice that young shelf-stacker wouldn't move out of the way, I remember when the customer came first, and so on...

...to get ready to go out for dinner on my 40th birthday, I was watching a Yorks v Lancs limited overs match on TV, and was firstly dismayed by the sight of a Yorkshire and England fast bowler wearing some sort of face-stud-piercing in his eyebrow. Then I was mildly dismayed by my own dismay and what it said about the milestone we were about to celebrate. Then I remembered that this was a Yorkshire and England cricketer who'd defaced himself, Chris Silverwood, and thank God we're rid of him.

Whilst flicking through the TV channels, I noticed GMTV discussing lipstick vs. lipgloss. Apparently, lipstick is "bang on trend". Harumph...

The second harumph came when I noticed on the Yahoo main page that "Most Clicked On" has now become "trending"...

What is the world coming to?

I've remembered what I wanted to write....no gone again.Damn it! This is the Gardeners Question Time site isn't it?

...when you bend down to tie your shoe laces and wonder what else you might usefully do while you're down there.

Grumpy is probably the default setting for most males in Britain, although the other six dwarves do make an appearance from time to time.

There's a lot of fun to be had by pretending you're deaf and getting everyone to repeat things to you (finishing off with the comment that there's no need to shout).

Memory (or lack of it) is the real bugger. You swear that pen was there a minute ago, so where the hell is it now? You then find that you're holding it in your other hand because you needed to keep your writing hand free to use the pen!

Other favourites include putting the milk in the oven, instead of the fridge. Going out of the house and discovering you're still wearing your slippers, and sitting everyone down to dinner with all the food on the table but no plates!

given that life expectancy for the average UK bloke is now 78ish, that gives three perfect periods of young, middle-aged and old with no recourse to the traditional nonsense that "middle age" hits in your 40s or 50s or something ...

young - birth to 26
mid age - 26 to 52
old - 52 to 78

I think my final flush of youth (ie: my late 20s) came in the early 00s which means I was still up for bands like The Libertines, The Coral and Bloc Party. I still love these bands and I have never understood the derision that The Libertines receive from The Word and their readers (go listen to "Time For Heroes")

Now with The Arctic Monkeys I kind of understood the appeal (clever and highly observant contemporary lyrics, the tunes, the band dynamics, etc...) but it just didn't hit me in the right place. And since then I have never really got any of the young indie bands that have come along. Now it may be the case that the bands coming along aren't my type of bands, and I also think that the absence of Peel means that there are certain breeds of band that are no longer being picked up. Its also the case that with the rise in downloads and fall in albums, liking bands is no longer like being part of a club so there's less to be invested in new talent. But by and large, it is me becoming an old codger - I no longer want to spend my life in bars and clubs, I no longer get excited when I pick up the NME and I really look forward to a quiet sunday walk followed by a roast dinner...(oh shit I'm boring myself here - better stop writing..)

We're here. It's already a given.

when my ears and nostrils needed a shave. And people bought Lilly Allen's music.

On Saturday I donned jeans, a t shirt and cardigan to drive to a friend's house. I was too cold so I put a denim shirt on, closest to hand in the wardrobe, under the cardigan. Imagine my surprise when David Beckham turned up in similar gear in Monday's newspaper and now I am assured that the "double denim" look is the height of fashion. It is the first time I have been remotely "dans le vent" since 1993 and completely by accident. Which was nice.

that made me think I was becoming a miserable old git. But I forgot it.

when I get DOWN onto the sofa.

was scoffing a carry out madras, put it aside to answer phone, then promptly sat on curry. Not recommended. Can laff about it now tho'..

If it's possible, I'm content and content being a grumpy old bugger.
Impatience, petty annoyance and general cynicism about just about everything.

Going on 40, but will try to convince anyone who'll listen (not that any does (yes kids, I mean you!)) that I'm only 28.

...I discovered that I'm older (at 44) than the leader of the Conservative Party.

Heaven knows I'm miserable now!

Perhaps not so afraid. You lot don't sound like a gripey thwarted bunch of Daily Express readers which would have been our inevitable fate 40 years ago.

Even obsessive music fans are nicer than they were.

Found my original Mojo magazines - meaning the first few of them from Issue 1 - and the letters pages are ASTONISHINGLY curmudgeonly and bad tempered. "If that's a decent (something or other praised by a reviewer) then we're up to our lower lip in shit and the devil is about to go water skiing'.

I'll bet the correspondents were only in their thirties at most. Probably this blog's members but you've cheered up a bit

- asked someone sitting behind me in the cinema to stop talking
- had to explain to a (much younger) work colleague who Peter Cook or Leonard Cohen were/are
- realised I don't have a clue how my own kids university finances are going to work
- had to explain to my kids how vinyl records work.

I get really wound up by other people's use of abbreviations and acronyms that I don't understand.

That I keep having to re-submit registration details for this site because I keep forgetting my password

when being called a young man is no longer patronising but a compliment

getting annoyed about people who push in at queues (makes me so angry)

not being able to go through the night without having to go to the loo

when a 70's night always seems to mean disco - when we did have punk rock

when work colleagues around you in their 20's are young enough to be your children

..but having teenage kids keeps you young (apart from when you are called fossil)....new language...technology

but the best things is probably I've seen it all before and I just cant be arsed anymore

The killer is when your child reaches the age you were when you married his mother!

about people (myself included) who readily forget that pretty much everything these days is fantastic if you're able-bodied, mentally healthy, untroubled by tragedy and a westerner.

when you start telling people your age. As my grandma always used to say, "I'm nearly 90 you know" when she was in her 80's. Now my mum is doing it. I do it as "I remember the punk wars you know".

I am an admirer of the japanese way of life. Every day they have an exercise song played on the radio and every day millions gather in public places, young and old, to go through the daily routine that starts their day without embarassment or sniggering. Perhaps we need a Massive exercise song to keep us fit, active & supple. That way I won't need to hold on to something whenever I crouch down to pick something up.

The grumpy git in me says that if we ever needed such a song in the UK it would probably have to be selected by a f**king 6-week reality show and be produced by Pete Waterman. I am 55 you know and once saw Showaddywaddy in concert.

...cos when I do, I realise why I don't.

has been incredibly life affirming. I suddenly don't feel like such a stranger in my own land any more. Pissing in the night is normal, growling at young people and inanimate objects is normal, making strange noises upon sitting/standing is normal......

I'm alive!!

......for the first time in yonks, choosing this as the most eye-catching and appealing strand, or, at least, familiar to my way of viewing the world thru' my red-tinted (with rage, usually.)
And you've all got so bloody young!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And how the feck do I keep up with all these new names, eh? I can't even remember the old ones. Does that Ernie Santiago still post here?
I'm going back in my bunker

the small print and credits on LPs, with many CDs however it's a different story: one glance and I'll frequently fling the case aside with an exasperated "fuck it!".

I'm 55 and my bifocals work fine.

and woke up to the realisation that I hate 2 things in this world more than anything else: living things and inanimate objects. And the fact that the word "realisation" has a fucking red line under it as I type this. Alright, "realization". There now, I'll go to bed happy. Actually I won't, 'cos I'm an insomniac. Spelled that right didn't I you bastard computer?
Nighty night.

I never thought I would hear myself having these conversations but now I do all the time. Bit nippy isn't it? Be nice when spring has finally sprung. Bloody rain!

Mine appears to be 'Hee-yahh'. Occasionally 'Hurp-ahh'

Also I have come terrifyingly close to breaking wind at the same time. I have to close the airlocks and snatch it back like Indiana Jones retreiving his hat. As it were.

Relax girls, I'm spoken for...

I just need slightly longer arms, that's all.

... old clothes on one shelf in the wardrobe to wear when it's time to wash the car. Also, old t-shirts & tatty collared shirts get cut up and used as rags.

Listening to more Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole and Ella Fitzgerald and appreciating just how talented they were. Investing in DVD boxed sets of Callan, The Saint, The Baron, Danger Man, and The Champions and enjoying most of what you see. Slippers and comfy cardigans are sensible things to wear around the house - why didn't we think of this before?

http://open.spotify.com/track/78JfMu81AePt2SpibsvbNr
(Old - Henry Priestman) and think "Yep, thats about right!"

As the Amazon Review says:

Does the world need another grumpy middle-aged man singing about how modern life is rubbish? When the songwriter is as good as Henry Priestman, the answer is definitely "Yes".

The album, Chronicles Of Modern Life, is well worth a listen
http://open.spotify.com/track/78JfMu81AePt2SpibsvbNr

This thread is my life! Thank You!

I am getting extremely upset by this trend of using "real" people in adverts for example - those flash-mob gatherings at Trafalgar Square or Liverpool Street where a huge crowd of gurning wannabees try and get their mugs in the camera whilst torturing some popular tune - couldn't even tell you what they are advertising.
Then there's one set in an office where all the suits suddenly get up from the boardroom and start body-popping in a highly unseemly manner - again not sure what they are meant to be selling as I have usually turned over.
Halifax is it, have one of the worse - some office bods playing at running a radio station in their lunch break, high-fiving each other, jesus wept!
Or there's one where creepy doorstopping mortgage advisors go round to people's houses and drink their coffee, pat their dogs and patronize them whilst trying to persuade them to consign even more of their hard earned savings into oblivion.
Then, there's the ones where some Asbo families sit in front of a computer saying "if we can take out a loan on-line then fall behind with payments and get our house re-possessed, then anyone can..."
But don't get me started on the ads with irritating jingles like that "We buy any car.com", or even worse the "go-Compare" with the opera singer popping up all over the place, if he popped up near me singing that annoying song I'd kick him so hard up his Aria that...
And if I ever see a bloody meerkat with a Russian accent, well pass me the sodding shotgun!

....possible at some point in the future...

ZZZZZzzzzzzzzz......

Would you like a biscuit?

Does he take sugar?

Sod that - I'm sticking to rock music!

I am quite often miserable, for example, when I consider the prospect of the forthcoming General Election. I feel old when I remember how good The Small Faces were in comparison to the useless wallies who pass for pop groups these days. And I behave like a git towards salesmen who come knocking at my door trying to persuade me to change energy suppliers. But I don't often combine all three characteristics simultaneously. Such occasions are usually in response to the likes of Ant & Dec and similarly hyperactive TV presenters. Is there a specialised training school which churns out these gibbering idiots?

...and not be seen! In my day your pants were only ever seen by anyone else when you go wedgy'd at school! Now it seems everyone is happy to show off their skids!

And I feel old when I catch a trailer for Skins - I don't even understand it when someone explains it to me

I am 37, so plenty of youth left in me yet, I hope. However, one thing that gets me going is the use of informal language in official communication at work.

I work in a semi formal environment and yet I receive email with the sign off "best regards" everyday. Whatever happened to Yours sincerely etc?

John

When I am doing odds & sods at home, (& at work),I often retrace my steps to see if that will jog my memory.

I thought it was only me, but most of my work chums say they do it too.

Almost all of the above ring a bell. Creeping infirmities like aches & pains, arms being too short to read, arriving in the kitchen and thinking "Why the fuck did I come in here?" Abrupt deterioration in verbal skills when dealing with the incompetent fuckwits we all encounter in daily life - vocabulary is suddenly reduced to incoherent spluttering interspersed with words beginning with f. My offspring report that I go "oooff!" whenever I bend over / sit down / straighten up and when I blow my nose my eyes widen and bulge alarmingly like a mad person.

I think Uncle Wheaty is about the right age for the early stages of mogism - I think I can date the onset of mine to the age of 42, when I got my first pair of glasses.

I am now such a confirmed miserable old git that I decided to make a living out of it - contributions from grumpy old codgers like you lot are always welcome at www.miserableoldgit.com.