Saturday, 12 March 2016

Being Eighty

This is the blog I may not post.
I've been an octogenarian for 22 days now. I never expected to be one -  'three score years and ten' sounded about right. May be it's 70 + VAT now? Mum made it to 81 and Dad scored 86, and they were both Victorians. Dad emerged into 1888 so lasted quite well for a man of his time. Enough of looking back.
 The birthday cards have been taken down and wait on the dining table to be filed. I'm allowed (by me) to re-read them at meal times. Some of the presents have found their way into ShedYellow, where they will inspire me. Some of the bottles are empty and others have been sampled, re-corked, and put into a safe place. The cakes are gone, but their respected memories live on.
 I had not expected so much love would dwell in the world for a grumpy old man ... perhaps you can see why I have doubts about posting this, erm, post thing?
 I love you all.
PS, the clinic has been restocked and the teachers have been paid ...

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