Shifting gears; the unexpected, the uninvited and the inevitable
I have a birthday looming. When I’m sixty-four isn’t that much farther. Eliot’s suggestion that I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the cuffs of my trousers rolled is beckoning, and the Simonesque image of sitting on a park bench like bookends is forthcoming. Friends are missing by design and default, family members … Read more