THE BLOG
03/10/2013 09:10 BST | Updated 02/12/2013 05:12 GMT

What Does 70 Feel Like?

I recently accompanied Volleyball (my boyfriend) to the 70th birthday party of one of his friends - John.

This was the first time that I'd met John - from what I can gather he was a bit of a gay mentor for Volleyball, they went to the theatre together, hosted dinner parties, and discussed books and philosophy.

John's 70th birthday party was held in a private function room at the Jugged Hare - a recently renovated gastropub near the Barbican in the heart of London.

The walls of the room were decorated with photos and poems posted by John's friends.

The wine was flowing and there was lots of happy conversation. Dressed stylishly in a black suit, John worked the room and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. It was a good party.

It did get me thinking a bit.

My 70th birthday is still another thirty years away. It's hard to imagine where I'll be or what I'll be doing, but I do like planning ahead so it never hurts to have a few options up your sleeve.

While the sensible thing to do would be to hold a sophisticated gathering - friends and family getting together to drink champagne and laugh about times past - there is a part of me that is drawn to the poem by Welsh writer Dylan Thomas:

"Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

There seems to be little merit in growing old gracefully. Valiant deeds of times past are soon forgotten, so why not continue to create a scene? Demand attention? Be sensational?

"You are invited to join me to celebrate being sensational" is perhaps how the invitation will begin... Anyone who wants to join me - we could go on a gay cruise; hire a villa on Mykonos; take the train to Brussels to dance at La Demence; or whatever is hot and where it's at in thirty years time.

Or maybe I'll just take myself off an adventure - a solo safari through Africa; navigating the Amazon River in a kayak; or heading into the hill tribes of Pakistan to write obscure travel journals. I may not return or ever be heard be heard of again - a bit of mystery is always a good way to mark an important occasion.

Alternatively I could create a performance of some kind - taking inspiration from London's 80s icon Leigh Bowery, lolling around on a chaise lounge while people watch and stare. That is art. That is a self-obsessed old man and that is art.

So much to celebrate. So little time.

I am determined to burn and rave at close of day.