Bernard O'Shea: My (achievable) list of things you should have done by 50

Fewer milestones, more small, ridiculous moments — my list of 50 things to aim for by the time you hit the half century

No 10 on Bernard O'Shea's list: 'Injured yourself sleeping.' No11: 'Made a noise standing up that would worry a vet.' Picture: iStock/

I was reading the Forbes Under 30 list the other day and, fair play, the people on it are impressive: Young founders, actors, scientists, and entrepreneurs. They are the sort of people who, by the age of 27, have already disrupted an industry, built a platform, raised venture capital, and probably have a morning routine involving ice baths and detailed breathing.

But the minute you get to 50, the tone changes completely.

Nobody ever writes: "50 Over 50 People Who Could Still Surprise Everyone."

No, by 50, it becomes: "What You Should Have Accomplished By Now."

There is a massive difference between the two. One is hopeful. The other sounds like a passive-aggressive email from a bank.

These lists are always full of the same cheery milestones. By 50, you should apparently have your mortgage nearly paid off, not have bad debt, have an emergency fund, a pension that could support a minor republic, and some kind of folder labelled ‘estate planning’.

I’m 47 now, which means I’m only three years away from the age at which society expects me to have become a finished product. Also, my grand fitness reboot has slowed to the pace of an injured snail. I’m still 17 stone and I haven’t been to the personal trainer in weeks, because work has taken over.

My health battle is less a journey, and more a car left idling outside a chipper while I just pop in to get an extra tub of curry sauce.

So I’ve decided to make my own list. A realistic list. A humane list.

Here, then, are my own, much more attainable things you should have done by 50:

• Made a complete tool of yourself in public.
• Apologised to a door you walked into.
• Pretended you knew how to use a self-service check-out when you absolutely did not.
• Said "you too" when a waiter told you to enjoy your meal.
• Hidden in a shop because you saw someone you used to work with.
• Become furious with a piece of Tupperware.
• Had one belt that tells the emotional truth.
• Started a health kick on a Monday and abandoned it by Tuesday teatime.
• Declared "This is my year" with absolutely no supporting evidence.
• Injured yourself sleeping.
• Made a noise standing up that would worry a vet.
• Gone upstairs with purpose and arrived there with none.
• Opened the fridge repeatedly as if something better might develop.
• Held onto a shirt because it represents the man you once hoped to be.
• Described a night out that ended at 10.30 as "mad altogether".
• Taken a tablet organiser far too personally.
• Texted "milk" to someone you once wrote poems for.
• Become emotionally dependent on one particular parking space.
• Done that thing where you check the weather in another county for no reason.
• Felt genuine triumph after cancelling plans.
• Blamed your back on "the mattress" for at least four years.
• Bought hummus or something probiotic with sincere intentions.
• Developed strong views on bins.
• Said "We must meet up properly" to someone with no intention of doing so.
• Turned down the radio while reversing.
• Shouted at a child for losing the very thing you moved yourself.
• Used the phrase "I’m not as young as I was" after carrying one folding chair.
• Spent more time researching steel frying pans than you did your Leaving Cert.
• Got deeply invested in the phone charger’s location.
• Had a conversation about air fryers that felt almost religious.
• Wondered if everyone else got a handbook for adulthood that you somehow missed.
• Worn your good runners for no exercise whatsoever.
• Felt proud of going to bed early.
• Felt prouder of leaving somewhere early.
• Reached a point where silence is no longer awkward, but premium.
• Looked at younger people in a queue and thought "They have no idea how tired they’re going to be".
• Become interested in birdfeeders.
• Said "That’s actually very clever" about storage.
• Had one absolutely hopeless password system.
• Been unable to throw out a cable because it may be "for something".
• Referred to a dinner at 6pm as "late enough".
• Regretted a second drink more than a second helping.
• Kept an item of clothing because it once represented possibility.
• Had an argument with a fitted sheet and lost.
• Realised that being ‘busy’ is now your main hobby.
• Wondered when exactly you became a person who enjoys looking at sheds.
• Accepted that some days success is simply not buying chocolate every time you’re in a petrol station.
• Discovered dignity is not a constant state, but a series of narrow escapes.
• Looked at your life and thought: Do you know what, considering the carry-on, I’m actually doing grand.
• Having real joy knowing you tidied up before you went to bed.

Because maybe that’s the flaw in all those lists. They assume life is a set of targets. A mortgage is paid down. A pension topped up. A body transformed. A plan completed neatly and on schedule.

If, by 50, you have paid some bills, attempted self-improvement in wildly inconsistent bursts, and retained enough delusion to think next Monday might still be the start of something — that is not failure.

That is a life.