There is also an intermittent pain in my left arm. This can cause me to swear out loud, when I turn it in a particular direction. Well, you might say, don't turn it that way. But I have to when I'm getting dressed.
The small of my back was killing me one night last week. Mind you I had been standing at my easel for ten hours.
These are I suppose, simply the consequences of getting older. I am getting older. The mirror, that hateful sheet of glass, loves to remind me of the fact.
My brain on the other hand, seems to delight in concealing the aging process from me. Constantly telling me I can still do the things I used to do.
In my mind I can still run, my feet hardly making contact with the earth, as I hurtle along. I can dribble a football like Georgie Best, or even my extremely handsome son Georgie Bain. I am still the grooviest mover at the Saturday night dance.
|Georgie Bain about to score from a corner kick.|
Because at least I am still here. Given the chance to grow old, when so many, so many that I have known and cared for, and loved, were taken too soon.
Come on now, cheer up! I didn't mean to depress you. Let's all count our blessings.
Anyway, can't sit here all day. There is still loads of work to be done on the 'Ramshackle Gallery'.