Yesterday I reached the significant milestone of sixty years on Planet Gill. Strange but true. Generally, I’m not bothered by the passing years. For one, it is wasted energy and for two, I rarely act my age. However, for the preceding couple of days I felt unsettled by the whole idea. It occurred to me that time was running out. That I should have achieved something by now, that my chance of doing anything worthy before I needed substantial support was diminishing. Quite frankly, that I had under-achieved. Up to 11 August 2022 retribution had been a possibility and now it seemed unlikely. Oh dear, how maudlin.
Then it happened. And it was the best day ever. I cried a lot, possibly more than your standard birthday. I was humbled by the kindness of my family and family. I did all the things I love to do: I ate good food and drank champagne, I rummaged for bargains in an antiques market, I wandered through the parched Physic Garden and bought plants, I picked out a lino-cut in an exhibition, all in good company.
Much later, I sat in the garden, G & T in hand and watched the bats flit and flutter. And I realised that I had achieved what a lot of people sadly fail to do. I have surrounded myself with wonderful people, compassionate and considerate and funny. It really couldn’t have been a much better day. Thank you.
ps New diamond studded boots photo courtesy of my very clever younger brother. Not that the older brother isn’t clever too, of course.