I had always thought that I would find it difficult to fill my time when I was no longer working and trying to take advantage of any spare moments by being involved in various other activities. I'm lucky that I have always enjoyed reading and have never had trouble switching off from society for a a few hours to immerse myself in a book. But there needs to be more to life than concentrating on a book while the world passes by.
But now that I've reached that time of life where paid work is a rarity rather than an imperative, where going to a social occasion hardly ever happens and the highlight of a particular day might be to visit the podiatrist, the days seem to be passing faster than ever. For example, it's 69 days to my birthday: a milestone birthday, in fact, after which I can't pretend that I'm middle-aged any more. How long is 69 days? Let's think: 69 days ago was September 26. and, checking back on this blog I find I was writing about what I was doing to fill my days. 'What's it all about?' I was asking. Was that nearly 10 weeks ago? And, what's happened in the interim?
I feel I'm in a speeding car, hurtling along to an unknown destination with me holding on trying to make sense of it all.
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