Well that's another year rubbed off life’s scratchcard.
Funny how time seems to drag on in your middle years yet speeds up in your later ones. Is there a name for this wondrous phenomenon? Or is this just a sign of old age? After all, 12 months is still 12 months. Right?
There’s nothing pretty special about 2026 except for the fact I’ve arrived at 63.
If longevity statistics for women are anything to go by then I only have around 20 years left on the planet provided no other unexpected visitors turn up – like Death. I’m not hoping to see the Grim Reaper for a few years yet but when I do, I hope he’s like the Death featured in Terry Pratchett novels; astride a white horse called Binky and speaking in CAPITALS.
This time last year, I was throwing together my list of three goals to accomplish. Naturally, they all revolved around the house – fixing this, replacing that or smashing out the other. At sixty-three, there’s got to be more to life than DIY so this year’s resolution will be like nothing before.
After 45 years of spreadsheets, putting up with work numpties and clacking away on office keyboards, I’ve finally decided to hang up my working gloves to venture off into the world of early retirement. So long suckers and thanks for all the fish, as that’s what decades in finance has given me – one great haddock!
My mind’s made up. All that’s needed now is an exit date but that too has already been added to the kitchen calendar. When the clock’s next change, I’ll be springing forward to begin writing the final chapter of life.
Not
this blog though. No final cyber
chapters yet for you lot – there’s still another 20 years of this nonsense to
publish!
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