One foot in the grave….

Today is technically my first day of retirement although I’ve been rushing around like a crazy rushing-around thing trying to sort out the house before the heavy gang arrive tomorrow morning at the crack of sparrows.

I hadn’t really thought about the lifestyle change until I went to the supermarket and the car park was almost empty.   In the store there was only one checkout open yet there was no queue.  The only problem was that all the customers were old and doddery, chewing their false teeth, shuffling down the aisles, blocking the way, blocking the checkout whilst counting out their small change, muttering like gothic Victor Meldrews.  Hang on…..I think I’ve just joined their club…..damn!  Is this what it’s all about?  Perhaps there is no God.  Or, if there is one, he’s probably perpetually eighty and only has small change in his purse.

I try not to tut and shake my head.  I’m sixty and still going like a train like a lot of baby-boomers.  Still do the gym, drive a sporty little thing, wear jeans and tee shirts, am looking forward to a bright  future and a whole new career and, of course, I think I’m thirty five, max.  Maybe that’s the saddest thing of all….


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