Gingerbread Men

Sorry, I’m becoming very irregular. It’s partly due to other writing, and partly due to still feeling very tired (I’m blaming it on possible COVID but it might just be my appallingly irregular habits).

I will refer to Roger McGough – The Way Things Are – for my explanation of this. He says it better, and more concisely than I can.

No, old people do not walk slowly/because they have plenty of/time.

The truth is, I am engaged in a race to write as much as possible before I degenerate into a bumbling old buffer (feel free to make up your own jokes here). By staying up late to write I (a) make it more likely that my fear of dementia will come true and (b) don’t really gain much anyway as being tired works against my ability to write.

A late butterfly

My Dad didn’t suffer much with his dementia. He referred to himself “going potty” a few times (as he tapped his head) and then threw himself into a life of playing dominoes and doing jigsaws with the strangers who came to visit him each day.  It wasn’t a bad life. It’s just that I don’t want to live it before I have become a famous poet, and I don’t want to upset Julia and my family by asking who they are when they come to visit.  Plus, I have at least one grandchild to teach bad habits and some family history to write before my memories fade.  When I was at my aunt’s funeral I realised I am now one of the few people left alive who attended her wedding.

And on that cheerful note, I will leave it today, as I have just had a text to ask if TESCO can deliver the shopping earlier than planned. Julia is still out so I need to leap into action.

Peppermint Creams – the finished article

Photos are from previous Octobers.