"will you still need me, will you still feed me?"
i remember way back when ...
sixty four sounded unthinkable! i mean one is well past it by that age, practically one foot in the grave!
ah the perception and misperception of age and aging.
come september the reef turns sixty four!
i don't feel sixty four, i don't even feel fifty ... fifty is a grown up number, definitely not to be considered by one who fancies themselves a wolf and has their own imaginary herd of horses which follows them around.
so today me, myself, the ever young, decided to have a bit of a hack at the really tall weeds in the back garden.
the trouble with over grown gardens is that one can't really be sure about the footing to be found beneath the virulent growth. how, you may ask, do you know that the growth is virulent?
quick answer - because i darn well landed in it!!
missed my footing, tumbled to the green and muddy ground, quite by chance hitting my chin on a half brick covered by stinging nettles. ouch!
i now have a burning lump on my chin and muddy knees. fortunately no one was around to witness my untimely descent into the weed pit so i am still able to cling to a few shreds of my tattered dignity.
i would really like to make it to my eighty fifth birthday so i turned my back on the weeds and determined to watch 'Hunderby' on the tv instead.
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