Two Old Codgers

How the World strikes us

I suppose it depends which bit of ‘youth’ you mean.
Spotty Teenager
A spotty fifteen year old?; twenty years old and struggling to find a worth while job?; thirty five, running yourself ragged to pay for your kids university education and dreading having to pay for your daughters wedding?.

Or should we move on to your early forties when you begin to wonder if you are getting old?. I don’t think I really fancy any of it.

There are compensations in being old, especially if you are lucky. We have everything we
NEED and quite a few things we just want so I suppose that qualifies as rich. Not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination but rich. Obviously, we have less future and loads and loads of past but all in all it’s OK.

The bones creak, standing on steps to clean the windows is not something we look forward to but mostly we manage.

Memory is a bit of a blur. In the kitchen making a meal and a thought strikes you “I’ll look that up on the computer when I’ve finished here”. When you do eventually get to the computer the only thing that comes to mind is “What the hell was I going to look up?”.

You started out on life’s journey with a box full of shiny marbles. The box is no where near full any more, you have lost some of your marbles and many of the lovely coloured ones have lost their sparkle. You just hope the bottom won’t drop out of the box and take with it your memory banks.

It’s difficult to measure the quality of life. Were I able to nip back to when I was thirty and see me as I am now, I would probably be horrified but having got here, it’s OK. One of those nice little platitudes that is easy say but not alway easy to live up to “If tomorrow is no worse than this - it’ll do”. You look at some unfortunate contemporary who sits, head down and waits for a bit of excitement such as afternoon tea.
Jam & Bread

Not much quality of life there but for him or her, the taste of strawberry jam on new brown bread and butter, or the touch of a loved ones hand brings them real joy. I guess for them they couldn’t ask for more.

Now, having thoroughly depressed you I will go - open a bottle of red wine (which will last me four days), prepare a nice sirloin steak and look forward to watching my favourite programme on TV. That sounds good to me.


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