You do get old, you know, if you are lucky.
You can’t avoid that – if you get there.
You can plan for it as you are able, but you can’t know how it will happen, whether, in fact, it will happen at all.
I had all this when I was on the bus!
I don’t carry a phone any more – only if I think I may need to ring for a taxi while I am out. No. I don’t drive. Could ha’ done, could ha’ done . . .
I don’t carry a phone that I could take notes on – this is what I was going to say. I carry, instead, in that old-fashioned way, a notebook.
I thought of what I was going to say, got my notebook out of my pocket, looked for the pencil that should have been squashed in with it – it wasn’t there.
I was in the queue – not exactly on the bus at that point – without writing it down, I knew I would have forgotten it, by the time I was on the bus. Let’s try for some accuracy.
I could have looked in my bag – for the pencil, or a pen – I should have one – I’m a writer – come on!
Something about trust . . .
You can’t look into the future to see, so you need to have some trust.
Without the worry.
That was it! I was going to say – you need to have faith – if you are religious, you need faith . . .
I am not religious, in fact, and so I trust.
I trust that, within the cosmic wherewithal, things will fall out – one way or another.
I’ve written something else, better than this.
But I’m not putting it here – it is there in my copy of this that I keep.
Something is missing, I say.
I am still working on the boundaries of what a blog is.
I did a course on postmodernism once, and it was all about what postmodernism is.