I’m a creature of finely measured habits, particularly when it comes to matters scatological.

Second cup of tea, movement begins, and before the bottom of the cup is visible, I’m squatting and ready.

And this morning everything went as normal, but afterwards I looked down and was shocked to see a sea of bright red, a pan full of vivid colour so shocking that it only meant one thing — I was done for, something internal and important had come seriously adrift, I was unlikely to make it to lunchtime, see you everybody, it’s been good, don’t sell my Beatles LP’s too cheaply.

But then, suddenly, I remembered, last night I ate a whole packet of chilli beetroot. And that stuff will do it every time, all excretions for the next 24 hours are bright red. Phew, call off the funeral arrangements, I’m going to make it.

But then I got in the shower and to my horror discovered a lump under my right armpit. A big lump that appeared overnight, it must be serious to grow that quickly. The thought of hospital tests and waiting rooms flooded over me, and my world sank. The overpowering feeling of disaster crushed me. Was it even worth getting out of the shower and grabbing a towel, or should I just sink to the floor here and let the water wash over me as I slowly expire?

But then an overwhelming feeling of bravery arrived and I investigated the lump, and guess what, it turned out to be a congealed ball of pieces of cotton (never buy cheap tee shirts) that had got themselves wound up with various underarm hairs, and with one sharp but painful yank, the lump was gone and I was back in the world.

And then I was standing at the sink shaving, trying to see clearly even though the light from above was doing its best to blind me as it reflected off the top of my head, and as I was trimming the grey strands of hair out of my eyebrows, I realised, I really am fucking old now.

Rather like the events described above, as one ages, events become significant in ways they never did when you had a 32" waist, a Mini Cooper ‘S’, and the capacity to drink a Watneys Party Seven all to yourself.

As I sit here on the last day of the year, nothing much of pith and moment to occupy me, contemplating how the world has changed, my thoughts turn to the slow-close toilet seat, and how it is the perfect analogy for some of the trickier moments you come across as you negotiate modern life.

Let’s set the scene — you have a slow-close toilet seat at home, it’s wonderful, you pee, or dump, clean up, and flip the seat nonchalantly, it drops slowly, and quietly as you leave the room. Not even a quiet swish to be heard, it’s simply magic.

You get used to it.

But one day you’re at a friend’s house and you use the loo and you flip the seat as you have been doing forever, and it crashes down as if you’ve taken an industrial hammer to the toilet bowl and it is now scattered in pieces all over the bathroom floor.

You can hear the buzz of conversation downstairs come to an abrupt stop, and you know that people are looking at each other, horrified. Someone calls out ‘is everything OK up there?’

You come down the stairs, embarrassed, you enter the room and feel all those accusing eyes bearing into you.

And then, later on, things seem to have cooled down from the toilet incident, and a game is going on and you need some information and you turn your head and shout, ‘Alexa, what’s the capital of Ghana?’

People look at you as if you’re mad. Why would you suddenly turn and throw a question at the blank wall, and it slowly dawns on you, not everybody has an Alexa.

Modern science is great for those who absorb it.

And now we’re into modern science, did you know that work is currently being done on the decoding of the human genome, and there is the possibility for nanotechnology which offers the construction of a healthy non-degradable almost immortal body ( I don’t pretend to understand all this, I just read it somewhere).

But I’m not sure I want to think of replacing body cells and living forever, I accept the inevitability that life is finite.

Some people believe in an afterlife, that we live on in some way, maybe we come back as a spaniel, who knows, but whatever you believe, it seems to me to be more important to live the life you have to the best of your ability.

Turning neatly from where we started with this, the word scatological, which is not really a word you see a lot in Medium pieces, to another word I came across recently — sapiosexual.

According to the Cambridge dictionary, a sapiosexual is a person who is sexually or romantically attracted to intelligent people: for sapiosexuals, intelligence appears to be the most powerful driver of attraction.

I get this.

Remember Joan Bakewell, lovingly referred to as the ‘thinking man’s crumpet’ by Frank Muir in the 60's? That.

And thinking of the 60’s, the object of a young man’s nighttime fantasies died this week, goodbye BB, you were wonderful.

So, as we lurch uncomfortably into yet another new year, how do we fend off the terrors of aging, how do we keep mentally alert and physically active?

Nope, absolutely no idea, but walking every day is definitely to be recommended, and this writing thing seems to be a good idea; I must do more of it in the coming year, it keeps the thought processes honed, although I have to say, Medium has changed a lot.

A lot of my former friends have gone, and I’m now being followed by a lot of what appears to be young ladies with advice about relationships and how to keep your man interested, with accompanying pictures that don’t seem entirely appropriate.

But, whatever, there are still some good things to savour in life, the moment as you get out of bed and walk towards the bathroom and that first delicious fart of the day introduces itself to the word, or the pleasure you derive from the failure of others, you know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help yourself.

Anyway, happy new year everybody, and I would just like to add that none of this drivel was produced with the help of AI, it’s all the ramblings of a worryingly troubled mind.

The Morning I Thought I Was Dead was originally published in E³ — Entertain Enlighten Empower on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.