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Life Begins At Farty

People ask how old I am and I tell them I’m in my farties. You know you’ve reached your farties when every time you get off the sofa you’re accompanied by your own trombone section. The order is generally teens, twenties, thirties, forties, farties, death (although some unfortunate souls skip the forties and just go straight to their farties – for them, farty is the new forty).

Your farties is an age where life begins to rob you of a tiny bit of dignity. Like it’s giving you a taster of what’s to come. Prodding you gently in the direction of the day when strangers wipe your bum, God forbid. It’s also an age of discovery. The discovery that many older people are physically capable of bending down to pick up a dropped pen. They just don’t dare. The realisation that choosing your breakfast cereal is like bowel roulette. The rather nice idea that if farts were coloured you’d spend every afternoon at work sitting on a blue cloud. And if you and your friends ran up the street, people would think the Red Arrows had been. The fun to be had when you walk upstairs, farting to the rhythm. The thrill of clenching and taking tiny steps in public places. The tense waiting game as you accidentally let rip in public loos then sit patiently in the cubicle, waiting for everyone to leave, just in case a complete stranger realises that you’re the farty lady and tells Sky News (boys don’t have to do that – in the same scenario in the gents the farty man proudly exits the cubicle to a chorus of “good one mate” from five strangers).

But do not despair. I have found the cure!

I’ve taken to watching TV with my AirPods in. I call them my lugs (a Scottish word for ears) and frequently roar at Mr V “I can’t hear you, I’ve got my lugs in.” Sometimes I forget I’m wearing them and just wander around shouting at people. But the real miracle is that when I wear the AirPods I never fart at all! It must surely be some sort of acupressure 🤷‍♀️. Coincidentally, Mr V has taken to glancing over and giving me a thumbs up every time I get off the sofa. He’s such a supportive husband 😍

P.S. Apple isn’t paying me to advertise its anti-fart device.

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