Old World

 I've written another book. Well, the first draft of another book. I've been calling it "The Endgame Boss" of my memoir books, Teeth and Spine, even though I don't really know what an Endgame Boss is, but I wanted to sound young and cool. Which is counterintuitive really, as the book's about being old. It's called Old World, and it's a young person's primer on getting old, using time's depredations on my body as an example. I am "Fig. A". 

There is no "Fig. B". I'm every Fig, it's all in me. 

I know what you're thinking. I always do, you have a number of tells: tugging on your earlobe, rubbing your nose, the wet chin. "You can't write a book about being old, John. You're a young, young man. You're a tiny child, basically an infant. I'm surprised you can even walk." 

I'd agree with you on that last point. Every day is a bonus. 

I'm not properly old. There are older people than me. But I've felt the fell hand of mortality many times, and my bonafides - the white hair, grey jowls, withered leg, distended everything else - are pretty convincing. I'd have laughter lines if I ever cracked my face. No, I've earned this book. 

It's a whistlestop tour of ageing. I bring you in gently, with some colourful sketches of the elderly, their habits and activities, then we'll discover the science of decrepitude, why and how the body breaks down and what you can do to a) speed up the process or b) arrest it. (Bear in mind I'm not a scientist and I'm far more familiar with the first option) Then we meet our final destination, the great leveller and no friend of mine, death. Then the book stops. But the good thing is you stop ageing. Time can no longer get his grubby mitts on you. YOU. ARE. OUTTA. THERE. 

It's my most personal book. It's my voice, the me-ness of me throughout. This is something of a risk as it's three times as long as either Teeth or Spine. That's a long time to spend with me. I guess now we'll REALLY see if you like me. Well, do ya, punk?