Days of age and grace

I reckon the majority of people's ageing process beyond, say, sixty is a trade off between experience through accumulated knowledge, contentment following the giving up of the struggle to impose oneself on the world, and the natural dissolition of body and mind. (I wanted to say 'degradation' but that, whilst accurate, would lead us down the wrong path.)

Of course it's different strokes for different folks but personally I've never felt the sense of fulfillment - contentment - that I see in many of my peer group and can sense in many others. Until I do I gues I'll soldier on doing what I do, going at it as flat out as is, for me, physically possible.

Now, this is all very introspective and I'm not as a rule given to much in the way of naval gazing, but I was asked the other day, 'Would you do what you do if you had the wherewithal to sit back in comfort?' The easy answer and the one I gave is, 'Yes I would', but of course who can tell? When does one give up on a long held dream - in order to do ... just what? Indeed, does one have the right to give it up? Would that not be to fail in one's duty to oneself? Many questions. Few answers.

Deep thoughts for a rainy, gale lashed day in the Highlands of Scotland. Never mind, the fire is lit, the car is loaded for tomorrow's market stall and our backlog of orders has been liquidated now the new stocks have arrived here, Dee having laboured for hours and hours in the packing of it. Also at long last More Deaths Than One, second edition, is away to the printers (thanks largely to our friends in Achnasheen). It truly is a wonderful life and I am - we are - very lucky.

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