My favourite age was seventeen. I remember thinking how I had so many years of adventures ahead of me. By then I had realised there was no way I was going to make it in school, and to be honest, after my first job I realised there was no way I was going to make it at work either. So I looked at the alternatives, and actually I did have a few scary months before I fully accepted that I had no other choice but to follow Timothy Leary's advice - 'Turn on, tune in, and drop out'.
And then, almost before I knew it, I had some kids and had to feed them. That didn't go so well for me, moneymaking not being my strongest suit. My first go at family life ended in a messy disaster, but second time around I did better, possibly because my new wife knew how to make a few bob, although I liked to think it was because we loved each other.
Then my kids left home. Suddenly I had all this time to do what I wanted to do. I quickly got used to pleasing myself all day long. I acheived a few things too, for what's that's worth. I learnt a few skills and wrote a few books.
Then suddenly the next age was upon me. This is where I am now - it's called the 'sit around and relax' phase, or as my wife fondly refers to it, 'the lazy fucking bastard' phase. 'Shall I write another book - nah, fuck that. Shall I work in the garden - nah, fuck that! Shall I ride my horse - nah, fuck that! Ah I know, let's see if there's a western on the telly'.
And what's up ahead - well, nothing guaranteed of course, but I reckon it could be something along the lines of more of the same if I'm lucky, or if not, possibly a slow or fast decline back from whence I came.
Thanks for my life so far. I have loved the whole concept of it, and sure, I know I got lucky. Really, looking back, even the bad bits were interesting too.
Cheers to Eleven Years
1 day ago