It is a fact that you never accept old age. Sinatra sang about 'The September of My Years' and I have always tried to discredit that as wistful humbug. You are as old as you feel, aren't you? But the mind can continue to convince you that physical endeavour is well within your bounds of capability when the reality is somewhat different...
Today the weather was perfect. Blue sky, sunshine and 18℃. Shirt sleeve weather. Time to continue the attack on 25 years of Forsythia growth in my garden. Bow saw, pruning saw, loppers and secateurs were mustered and I hacked away for 4½ hours. Still haven't finished but I'm getting there. Another two large bags of green waste were deposited at the local municipal tip with just enough time remaining to enjoy a large, builders cup of tea before collecting my wife from her place of work. Time to head home for a well deserved roast dinner, a couple of glasses of Cotes-du-Rhone and one or two single malts....
Relaxed and in good humour I sat back to watch one of my favourite TV programmes and enjoy the machinations of DCI Banks as he solved yet another unfathomable crime. I'm not sure that he did though as the young mind was overtaken by the old body and I succumbed to dozing off and missed, not only the entire episode, but most of News at Ten as well.
Mind you, I reckon this young mind in an older body will sleep well tonight...
Goodnight all...
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