The lives of others

Getting older means you notice seriously old people. You think about what you will be like if you live this long. Are flat caps compulsory (I already have two)? How is it possible to eat cream teas like this man and his wife did today and remain slim? They were very slow in every sense, their step count for the day probably stayed in the hundreds. Why do even the nicest waitresses raise their voice an octave and talk to you as though you are a pet dog? How do you stay relevant, even to yourself? So many mysteries.

I had a call from my recently bereaved friend this morning. He sounded calm and sad. They had spent two weeks in Orkney staring out to sea and wondering what life would be like without their son.We talked for quite a long time. Every experience of loss is different; no point trying to explain it, the vocabulary is unique to every single person, although there are common themes sometimes. Disbelief seemed to be the main one this time, which I get. How can someone in their twenties just disappear from your life?

We were grateful for our lives today. Another lovely bike ride on the local moorland, sat for an hour outside Heather Farm Cafe and drank coffee (in my case very slowly, like an old person). TSM liked their mugs so much she found them on the internet using her smartphone and we bought six. Try before you buy as it were. The weather was beautiful, absolutely lovely. The colours all around us were vivid, the trees full of birdsong, and the bike ride was exhilarating. 

I think I might get a trilby in old age. The flat cap look won’t suit me.