More 55s

See the previous post for an explanation.

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Tiring. I tell you it’s tiring. You’d think having nothing to do would make life easy, wouldn’t you? But that’s not the case. Trying to look busy is even worse. I’d much sooner have enough to do so I could get on with it and not have to make up jobs to justify my paycheck. 

 No, I won’t! If you think I’m going to do all of that for you when you never do anything for anyone except yourself and you seem not to know the word “thanks” you have another think coming. You are the most selfish, arrogant leech I ever met!

Well, that’s what I SHOULD have said.

And he was sitting there in the middle of the carpet, stark naked except for the lampshade, and holding a torch in one hand and a copy of the Times in the other. And he was singing “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Of course I never worked out what he’d done with the tomatoes.

Fifty five! I’m sure last time I looked I was thirty-something with a great job, the future all ahead of me and ambitions to meet. And before that I was just 19, setting out expectantly in the world. It doesn’t really seem so long since I was starting high school. Where did the time go?