Word rapidly spread around the high school that one of the girls had an “empty.” Her parents had gone on holiday and left her alone in the house. Trusting her to look after their most valuable assest. So, it was surprising she was hosting a party for our entire high school year group, and everyone was invited—at least, that’s what we’d all heard from a friend of a friend. I’d […]
Until science comes up with a solution, we will all keep getting older. And with age, comes health issues. The inevitable consequence of jucies and enzyme drying up, tendons tightening, and muscles loosening. Like many people my age, I’m getting more and more interested in ‘wellness’ as a concept. If I can hit old age in the best possible shape, it might make my life a lot more pleasant. Right?
During the past week, I binge watched two series of Everest: Beyond the limit and listened to the audiobook of ‘Into thin air’ by John Krakauer. I highly recommended both, even if you have no interest in climbing mountains or stupid stuff like that. They are phenomenal studies in human psychology, ego, and humility in the face of failure. I don’t have aspirations of climbing Everest. At least not in this lifetime. I am,
A few years ago, I developed a kidney stone. It started — or at least the pain started — while I was at the gym. I felt a niggling pain in my back like I’d tweeted a muscle. So, rather than risk making it worse, I packed up and left the gym. By the time I got home, I was in agony. I’d never felt pain like it. Fortunately, the
A few years ago, I developed a kidney stone. It started — or at least the pain started — while I was at the gym. I felt a niggling pain in my back like I’d tweeted a muscle. So, rather than risk making it worse, I packed up and left the gym. By the time I got home, I was in agony. I’d never felt pain like it. Fortunately, the
I keep catch myself thinking like an ‘old person’. More than one I’ve thought “perhaps we should go for dinner a bit earlier, you know before the restaurant gets really busy and the service gets slow’’. I can trace my path to thinking like this back to when I commuted to work by train. For the first year or two I thought it was sad that some people stood in
While I was hiding from COVID, I spent a lot of time writing. Usually, using one of the three fountain pens I acquired during the first month of ‘sheltering-in-place.’ Of course, I could have written with one of the many pencils I own — I have a bit of a pencil addiction. Still, I felt this past year —more than any other year —was worth memorializing in ink on nice