My life is over -- well, not quite, but the end is in sight. Only two weeks to go till my 60th birthday, and I am beginning to feel the years piling up.
For example, on Saturday my sister and I were invited to Michele's house for the 13th birthday of her son Aleks. We knew that he was interested in the history of rock & roll, so I went through the attic and found a 1971 book on Buddy Holly that I thought he might like.
The party was a large affair, but partitioned so that the adults and children didn't have to spend all their time together. The basement was taken up with a sound system blasting out AC-DC while the elderly in-laws ate a sit-down meal upstairs.
Julie and I wandered about, chatting to various people, partaking of the copious refreshments and watching Michele's dog try and bully one of the visiting dogs. It was all pleasant enough.
But when we arrived home after only two or three hours, I felt as though I'd been away for the weekend. I suppose I'm no longer used to noise or large numbers of people. Once I would have taken it in my stride, but that seems to be a thing of the past.
At least my cough has eased off enough that I can sleep at night again. A couple of weeks of waking every two hours to cough really made me feel seedy.
I hope to be rid of it before the winter weather sets in, although going on the weather forecast for today that isn't far away. Last night it was almost frightening to read a forecast that predicted strong winds, heavy rain and possible flash flooding.
Happily, none of these things seem to have happened.