No, not really.
Once, when I was eighteen, a blood donation nurse mistook me for a university professor, but that may say rather more about my dress sense (or lack of same). I’d like to think I’ve aged into my personality. My prediliction for pocket watches and hats, and walking sticks, finally “fits”.
My santa beard, and outdated mode of conversation have “come of age”. I don’t think I was ever particularly successful at managing my 20’s, but I feel that each successive decade, I’ve had a better run at. Maybe this is “the one”, or maybe it’ll be the next one…
It’s also possible, that the slowing of lifes hectics pace, is itself, rather more congenial (and less dangerous), allowing me the latitude to smell the flowers. It’s often hard to actually appreciate the journey when you’re powering through the full-steam-ahead of youth, but these days I find I’m more content to gaze out the porthole and enjoy the delights of the journey.
Of course that doesn’t mean there are no purposeful plans! One of the best (if not the best) parts of my journey is the fellow travellers along the way, and a very favoured sport among those of us who share this carriage, has always been the crazy plan. I think being 60 just gives me a bit more license there.
Come along Toto, we need to find a Heart, a Brain, a Bass pedal, a Venue and a word that rhymes with Ocelot….
Next week on IaDL: How may days till Japan?
Dalmallyfest the Asylum 