I KEEP reading about mid-life crisis but nobody seems to care a fig for old age crisis, which must be far worse. Come to think of it, what about my problem - whole-life crisis?

There are those who sail through life with few worries while others are in trouble from the very first cry in the cradle.

Aten-year American study published last week confirmed that neurosis - call it instability - produces crises, not the boss or the bank manager.

Mid-life crisis, whether a wife's hot flushes or her husband chasing his second childhood, is largely a myth. Nine out of ten people in the survey never experienced it.

Alarge majority reckoned the years from 40 to 60 were the most satisfying of all. With the children grown up and the mortgage paid, life had settled down into a set pattern, though the middle-aged would welcome a little more sex and money. Who wouldn't?

Contrary to popular belief, most people were free of the health problems that are supposed to come with old age.

Now where does all this leave the likes of me - one of life's worriers?

We might appear cool on the surface, but inside the old motors are running 19 to the dozen. You know the kind of thing - don't let the grass grow under your feet, up and at 'em, grasp life with both hands.

Iwas earning money here, there and everywhere from the age of seven, and 60 years later I don't know how to shut down the engine. Retirement at 65? Impossible.

Those early years were all about survival - finding enough to eat. To this day I stockpile enough food for a month-long siege.

Ieven go through the 'reduced' basket looking for out-of-date bargains, which the wife invariably throws in the dustbin. It's in the blood, you see.

As for health, one twinge and I'm certain the end is nigh. Trouble is, my doctor won't indulge my imaginary ills.

Like I said, a whole-life crisis. I have my pension and savings, but must carry on working. The stores open seven days a week, yet I hoard food like a frightened squirrel. On top of that, I'm numero uno hypochondriac.

Relax and be happy. What does it mean? I remember interviewing the late Nat King Cole, the most relaxed crooner on earth. In the hours before curtain up at the Palladium he got through two packs of cigarettes and never stopped pacing up and down. I know the feeling.

So take heart all you out there suffering troubles that exist only for people like us, who never stop running. We may be slightly round the bend, but at least we get there two jumps ahead of the rest.

I SPY a common denominator in events surrounding the 1993 murder of Stephen Lawrence in south east London and the death of James Ashley, shot by a police marksman in Hastings last year.

In both cases the police reached false conclusions because they failed to act objectively in a fair and reasonable manner.

Without going into details for legal reasons, police in the Lawrence case noted he was black and therefore wrongly assumed he must be involved in criminal activity, maybe drugs or gang warfare.

Similarly, Sussex police looked at Ashley's history and targeted him as a dangerous villain. He was shot dead while naked in bed, no arms were found in his flat and he wasn't involved in the crime under investigation.

The key issue now is what action the Home Office is going to take to improve standards in policing and enforce disciplinary procedures to root out the incompetence, racism and corruption.

Racism is today's big issue in the wake of the Macpherson inquiry into police handling of the Lawrence murder, with Scotland Yard and the Police Federation hotly denying it is "institutionalised" in the Met.

Someone said the other day police were not racists, but in fact were against everyone but themselves.

This attitude was put down to the fact they are surrounded by hostility.

There's a lot of truth in that. Perhaps we should all examine our own conscience and ask whether we truly appreciate that we have perhaps the finest police in the world, warts and all.

IDO wish the media would stop publishing pictures of the great loves of my life now they are in their dotage.

Doris Day is the latest to be caught napping by a snapper. Approaching 75, she's rarely seen in public nowadays. I can see why.

Brigitte Bardot is too taken up with animal rights to worry about fading looks, though I always feel sad to behold the wrinkled features of the great sex symbol of my youth.

BB had an even greater effect on the male population than Diana, Princess of Wales or Marilyn Monroe. I suppose the only thing that can be said for their early deaths is that they escaped the ravages of time.

DELIGHTED to see council leader Lord Bassam doing a massive U-turn within hours of last week's column appearing in which I complained that local politicians refused to heed public opinion and abandon plans to build a waste incinerator hereabouts.

"Not an appropriate area", said his lordship.

Pity he didn't tell his colleagues that before they sent us packing with a loud raspberry.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.