Old Age

Having recently celebrated my birthday, the quastion of age inevitably comes to the fore.

Oh I don’t have any fear of getting old, and I firmnly believe you are only as old as the man you feel, but I do hate some of what seems to go with age.

Over the past three days I have lost my reading glasses more time than I care to remember.  I don’t know if the age thing is to do with the losing of the glasses or in the first place the need for glasses!

It has been a major irriation, a complete waste of time – an intersting voyage of discovery behind the sofas and through clouds of dust and discarded dog hair, rifling through workshop and fumbling through dark recesses of wardrobes.  Without them I cannot see the script on the computer (hence no blog posts) or read a book or cereal packet.  Now I HATE the idea of a piece of string round my neck with the glasses hanging over my chest,  it conjours unpleasant memories of dribbling antique dealers and restauranteurs queening it over customers, and I will not go down that road.

I need a homing device for the glasses, but then I would have to remember where I left the bleeper…. catch 22 no win, maybe I jsut buy loads of pairs of glasses and leave them everywhere, oh dear, at least I can be grateful to have great distance eyesight and can enjoy the stuning views from the kitchen here at Bellaugello Gay Guest House.  Mist is rolling in the valley below, blue skies are breaking through fleecy clouds and plants freshly washed after the preceding days rain glisten and shimmer bright shades of green, oh it is good to be in the heart of Italy.