IN recent years I’ve started to notice the tell tale signs of older age creeping up on me.
Although I like to keep myself quite active, and like to think I’m in fairly good fettle for someone my age, my body is starting to fatigue from a long life of hard graft. (Hard graft? - ed)
Stiff joints, intermittent aches and pains, that sort of thing.
And I must admit, this wear and tear on my body has been liable to make me a tad bit grumpy.
You wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of me on a cold December morning when my joints are creaking like an old chair.
But the last week has given me a huge dose of perspective, my trifling little ailments dwarfed in comparison to those of the truly remarkable heroes of the Paralympics.
I feel truly humbled from what I’ve seen on the TV in the last few days.
People with all manner of serious disabilities who achieve some genuinely stunning sporting feats.
These truly are incredible, incredible people.
If you’ve not been bothered to watch any of the Paralympics, then shame on you.
Some of it really has to be seen to be believed.
While watching the blind football I just couldn’t stop thinking - how the hell do they do that?
Watching them play, without fear, and with great skill made my blood boil thinking about the stroppy supposedly ‘professional’ footballers who go off in a huff and refuse to play because £250k a week isn’t enough for them.
One thing which has grated with me has been the patronising tone of some of the coverage of the games.
It’s been verging on the offensive at times.
The Paralympics is a lesson to us all, and it’s certain opened my eyes.
It certainly puts to shame those who fraudulently claim things like Disability Benefit.
You know the people I mean. Those who ham up a slightly dodgy knee and manage to persuade the gullible fools at the benefits office that they are not fit to work.
As for me, I’ll never gripe about my bad back again.
I doth my cap to these true sporting heroes.