Carpe Deum

I turned 65 yesterday.  I’d have preferred to have turned back time.   Until what age though, and would I know what I know now?  That’s as bamboozling as one of those super-power questions – would you rather be invisible or be able to fly?  It’s obvious that invisibility is the option, sneaking onto private planes and such you could fly anyway.  BUT, once invisible would you be able to switch back at will, or would you be stuck being invisible until you died?  Is this why people sometimes trip in the street, apparently over nothing?  Would objects you carried also be invisible, like clothes and shoes, caramel Freddos or stink bombs.  I don’t have any more energy to think about that.  I’ll just console myself that in parallel universes all around the multiverse there are ones of me making even more mistakes with even bigger regrets while there are other slimmer, healthier, fitter mees riding high on the crest of a wave.  Good luck to all of them. I hate sailing anyway.  When I think of what I really, really want, I realise, excluding anything happening in what shall we call it, the ‘larger world’, I have it.  I have come through the grief part of retirement – nobody talks about that and they should as it’s a doozy.  Worse than adolescence, but with liver spots.  Of course, it’s possible that I just don’t remember adolescence, but the main reason it’s worse is the scare-the-crap-out-yourself thoughts of death.  LOOMING.  As it does.  So, I recommend reading some Terry Pratchett to get ALL THAT in perspective. 

All this just to say, what next?   Well, all the instas say structure, prioritise sleep, cut the carbs – especially sugar*, and something else I forget.  Oh yes, purpose.  So, 300 words, make art, walk, see what happens.

*It is a fortunate then, that I am currently boycotting caramel, or any other kind of Freddos, given their recent heist of charging £1.25 for 4 rather than £1 for 5.  Outrage, thy name is Freddo.