Looking at a blank screen, searching for the right words, getting rather worried as nothing is forthcoming. Listening to the radio playing in the background, trying to remember who had that one hit wonder. Looking in the mirror, counting all the wrinkles, listening to a song that I can not quite remember. Age is just a number, one I’m not so fond of. Sixty was a whisper, one that will not linger. As I’m getting older I’m getting so much slower. Now those words are coming but I think I’ve lost the plot! .

Time is passing quickly. Technology is progressing. The doctor’s looking younger, but, I still don’t like police.  I’m sat at my computer, I’m  feeling rather nifty, you can forget I’m over sixty. I’m just as good as the next! I have the radio playing softly, and that blasted mirror covered. The words keep coming faster, as I think about the cheque. Age is not a barrier, life is like a book. The more you live, the more you write, the bigger the blooming cheque!

Oh hell  I forgot it’s Monday, and the neighbour’s coming to check that I’m not dead.