I Won: 53rd Edition

My annual ‘I Win’ post has had to be adapted this year. Fortunately, the adaptation is due to it being a couple of weeks late, rather than this being the year that ‘I Lost’. I’m hoping to keep the ‘I Lost’ post at bay for many years yet. So ‘I Win’ for 2025 is ‘I Won’, where I enjoy a petty little celebration at surviving a little longer that some of history’s great and good. And not so good.

There are many talented folk who died at 52 years of age. They are therefore not quite as talented at survival as I, who has made it to 53. Where shall we start? Harry Houdini. Escaped many a tricky situation, but at 52 years of age he failed to escape the clutches of the Grim Reaper. Christopher Reeve, bested General Zod but not death. William Shakespeare found himself written out of further storylines at this stage of life. Helen McCrory too, which I still find terribly sad.

Bob Ross had his angel wings painted on at 52. Roy Orbison warbled his last. Shane Warne spun out. Peter the Great became Peter the Dead. And Giant Haystacks went to see the Big Daddy in the Sky. And I leave you with a cliff hanger to finish with – Grace Kelly. All of them, and many more, dead at 52. It’s no age really. Far too young. Except perhaps for Giant Haystacks. He never gave off a long-life vibe if we’re being honest.

I’ve survived my first fifty two years and am a couple of weeks into my fifty third. I spent it in Bali, which was nice. The hotel kindly decorated my bed with petals and brought out a birthday cake with lit candles, and sang the birthday song. They knew it was my birthday because when I booked I noticed a section asking if we were celebrating anything. Damn right I put down it was my birthday. You’ll always get a cake. And I never turn down cake. You can put that on my headstone.