Thursday, 10 November 2016
Hey, all. It's been a long, long time. The children have stopped being children, at least in their own minds (though I'm not sure Deborah ever considered herself a child). Francis is still employed. I am (slightly) employed - but no longer teaching. Leo has made it into adulthood, even if he had to pull himself up out of his troubled childhood years by his fingertips. Beth ditto (though it's worth stressing that she's not Beth Ditto). On good days, we love each other and show it. On bad days, we love each other but nobody, not even us, would guess it. And I feel increasingly like the picture in the attic, though an AI version for the 21st century that's allowed out to drink the occasional glass of (virtual) wine. Each line across the forehead, each creased downturn of the mouth is the tangible sign of one of life's little adventures. They say, don't they, that faces should look lived in. Mine looks as if it's been squatted in by a bunch of Gaia hating loons who've decided to trash their home after failing to get adverse possession. But I'm here. I'm alive. So that's me. How about all of you?