It has also been been stated that your memory fades as you get older.
On a similar note, we all know that history repeats itself.
Einstein said that "Time is an illusion."
Almost three years ago - when I was a mere slip of a wetsuit and BB was not yet my 'Brand Manager' (more of that in a future post) - I danced the night away at an open air concert to the boppy tunes of Bjorn Again. It was brilliant fun.
Never mind that I was a contender for Tena Lady (as were my other companions at the time, which gave rise to even more laughter) and that the following day my hips creaked so much from all the pogo dancing and jumping about that I could barely walk, let alone get out of my seat.
Did I learn anything?
Did I heck.
Last night was the end-of-season celebration party at our rugby club. Parents only, not a child in sight, phenomenal turn-out, a number of the premiership team players at our tables for added effect, great vibe and - get this - one of the best live bands currently playing in London. Trust me, I booked them.
Cue this morning.
My hips hurt.
My knees ache.
I am still deaf and the ringing in my ears persists.
I am slightly hoarse (singing? shouting? certainly wasn't from talking).
I managed only four and a half hours sleep before another training session with BB beckoned.
Yet amidst all that I recalled a flash of a photograph being taken quite late.
So I sent out a query to the lovely woman who organised the whole event.
And got this.
|LCM attempts to demonstrate the 'dip'|
dance move with LW hooker Mr Neil Briggs
Best thing? I was driving, so you do the maths.
Which is why Oscar Wilde stated: "With age comes wisdom, but sometimes age comes alone."
Or with a professional rugby player, for that matter.