Having five minutes spare with a cup of coffee I thought Id look at Facebook for the first time in three years (ok, two years). I understand that I have loads of kind birthday wishes on my timeline. Err, whats that? Anyway I thank all you lovely people. I am now two years off 70 which is a sobering thought. A difficult age. Should I die now, I wont have done it young, as in Oh, what a tragedy to die so young or sufficiently old, as in Well, she had a good innings. This would obviously refer to my hitherto unknown cricketing prowess. Unknown to me too, acksherly. I have thought a lot about death and concrete recently. Of course they dont generally go together unless one has the misfortune to meet someone from the Mafia who says Sho, tonight, shweedart, Im gonna fit you up with concrete boots and youre gonna sleep with the fishes They all talk like that in Bower Street. Thinking about it, that would be most inconvenient as our fishes live in the water butt outside the kitchen door and the paving slabs would be awfully cold despite those nice warm concrete boots... Anyway, I digress. I have recently had quite a lot of migraine that makes one feel very ill indeed and at times, death would be welcome. Im not afraid of dying but its the manner of it, isnt it? Preferably not completely terrified as so many people are. And then theres the vexed question of what comes after. I do hope nothing. Youd then be totally unaware whereas I do worry terribly about people like my father whod be twiffling around Heaven pursued by three wives. How would that work? Would they all have to have a fight overseen by St Peter? And in what form is one in Heaven? Old, young, a baby? The latterd mean the place would be rather damp and smelly. Actually so would Heaven populated by the former. Ah well. Concrete? Well, what with all this rain, Im most grateful that we live on a hill, but even then the cow yard all 10ft by 4ft of it, is v muddy indeed due to the absence of concrete and the stable yard is breaking up and is going to have to be re-concreted. Generally I hate concrete but in animal husbandry it is the smallholders friend. I read of someone with five racehorses up to their chests in water in their stable and then looked at Flame warm and cosy in his straw filled stable and felt v humble and grateful. I wish I could write charming monographs like wot Chris Ogilvie does but instead I just witter on as I think Caroline Gibson said but I might be libelling her. We have just found a new field earmarked for building within trotting distance where one could gallop and gallop. In the past I couldnt wait to gallop ex racehorses flat out. Now, I walk tentatively downhill and canter slowly up. Thats being 68 in a nutshell.
Posted on: Sun, 26 Jan 2014 11:07:38 +0000
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