HAVE you ever walked into a room to get something, and then wondered what you were looking for? If you have experienced such a senior moment, welcome to the club.

The sad reality is that after our 20s, we lose brain cells faster than they are produced. And a youth spent on sowing wild oats doesn’t help: over-indulgence of the good things of life accelerates entropy.

And it’s not just the brain functions that suffer with age. Various organs go on strike to protest years of neglect and abuse. Gradually, the number of pills you pop in the morning and at night increase until you are swallowing a veritable cocktail of drugs to keep you going.

Now, when friends get together, chances are that much of the discussion over a drink and dinner is about sundry ailments and their treatment. We are more likely to exchange information about the skills of our various medical specialists than to talk about politics, books or films. A younger person listening in is likely to drift away, bemused and bored.

Old age, as people of my generation are aware, is a cruel thing. When I look at the elderly here in Devizes, making their way with the help of Zimmer-frame walking supports, I remind myself that in a few years, I’m going to need one of those.

Thus far, touch wood, I can still take Puffin, our Jack Russell terrier, on long walks. Or does he drag me out of the house? Whatever the dynamics, I do walk an hour a day.

Exercise does not come naturally to me. I have operated on the basis of the advice given by an ancient Chinese philosopher: “If you can walk, don’t run; if you can stand, don’t walk; and if you can lie, don’t stand.”

Whenever my wife has urged me to get some exercise, I have argued that I am conserving my energy. And when she asks me why, I say you never know when you’ll need it.

Not very convincingly, I maintain that we are all born with a certain number of heartbeats and breaths allocated to us. So if we waste any on exercise, we are reducing our lifespan. This argument does not let me out of doing routine household chores, however.

While brain cells diminish at an alarming rate with age, the grim reality is that fat cells multiply just as rapidly. In my case, my love of good food and drink has made it impossible to fit into trousers I bought a few years ago.

Although I have managed to lose a few pounds over the last six months, I seem to have hit a barrier, and the needle on the bathroom scales seems stuck, refusing to go any lower.

I know that losing more weight will involve pain: the other night, a friend told us how she had lost 30 pounds in just three months, and the process sounded pretty brutal. I know I should eat less meat, for instance, and more vegetables.

But each time I resolve to follow this sound medical advice, I am reminded of this sign outside my local butcher’s: vegetables are interesting, but lack a sense of purpose without a good steak. And things like good Italian risotto just cannot be made without butter.

In her quest to keep me alive for as long as she can, my wife keeps emailing me news about medical developments, alternative treatments and advice about fitness and exercise. Luckily for me, they often contradict each other.

For instance, the internet is full of chat about how bad cholesterol-reducing statins are for us. But when I ask my cardiac consultant if I can go off them, he says grimly that he would not advise it if I want to stay alive.

I am also informed that I can shake off my type-2 diabetes by starving myself for a few weeks. “Just try it,” urges my wife earnestly. Easier said than done. The thought of missing out on good food and drink for weeks on end sends a shudder through me. The fewer heartbeats left to me, the more I would like to savour the good things of life.

Many of us are reminded of our mortality after we hit 50. Reading glasses make sure we don’t forget that our faculties are in terminal decline. Now, even with glasses, my eyes get tired after reading for a bit, so I flick on the TV for some mindless viewing.

And thank goodness for Google: without this crucial memory aid, I would be getting many dates and facts wrong in my articles.

Unfortunately, it is not available at parties when all too often, I bump into somebody I know, but whose name escapes me at the time. There’s a moment of panic when another friend walks up, expecting to be introduced. Aaagh!

When we are younger, we take our health for granted, looking pityingly at our elders as they complain of their various aches and pains. But before we know it, we are the ones doing the complaining. Soon, our medical appointments and tests outnumber our social engagements.

Increasingly, retired people are becoming more and more hooked to the internet. Various chat groups include names I recognise as they hold forth on everything under the sun. Indeed, cyberspace has given many of my generation a lifeline, making a public forum available to them.

When I contemplate an impending old age, I am sustained by some new research. According to one team of researchers, stroking a pet animal adds a few years to your life. So our Puffin is earning his keep as he spends hours on my lap.

Then, dark chocolate is a life-enhancing food, much as red wine extends the average life span by two or three years. I just may live forever.

irfan.husain@gmail.com