I am not writing this thinking it might be the last item I ever write, but who really knows. I am coming to terms with age. This problem, of not looking forward, as I did up to age 60 or more, is challenging. With the best will in the world, my time here is reducing. I do actually ask myself, when buying training shoes or even clothes, will I live long enough to wear them out? That does not happen when you are young; it is perhaps the definition of youth. Meantime, the NHS is calling me for a shingles vaccination whilst also delaying my eye problem. It’s as if one part wants me to live whilst the other couldn’t care whether I live or die. Growing old, as they say, is not for the faint hearted.

Sad

I could say that Monty Don put me into this train of thought. As a fellow gardener, he apparently hates November and December. However, I don’t agree with him. Winter gives us a change to rest from the garden. Neither Ann or I are flagging too much with our running. Yes, it’s colder and very wet underfoot, but we still rarely miss a run every other day. On the non-run day, we usually walk. The joy, as it were, is that spring is just around the corner. What would we do without seasons? Yes, I know, we would be living in California. Do they experience the sheer pleasure of a warm day in March, or one of those balmy days in summer? They do, but it becomes routine, not noticed, just another dry, warm day.

Growing old

I never doubt my luck. Here we are, us old fogey’s, called for vaccinations, backed up by science. We are the longest lived people ever, which tells us something. Yet, so many, like Monty, suffer from SAD and that can lead to depression. Such states of mind are not good for our physical health, and will shorten our lives. We really need to spring out of bed each day, keen to get going. As I am consuming whey, my muscles are burgeoning! My legs feel fine and my brain is keen and sharp! What’s not to like, the shortest day is behind us and the sun is heading our way. Sounds rather like a cheerful song.