I hit 65 last month. Let’s try interviewing me.
How does it feel?
Well, pretty much the same as when I was younger. You know, 64, 63…
It happened to me while I was in the UK, so I could celebrate my birthday with my mother for the first time in too many years. She enjoyed the cake. She has no idea who I am.
What does being 65 mean to you?
So many things to choose from…
- Free public transport and higher car rental insurance rates
- A higher percentage chance of something nasty like Alzheimer’s or some other terrible thing we now live long enough to suffer from
- The ability to look back on long experience and offer wise advice that everyone gladly takes
- A vast inventory of amusing anecdotes to share, to everyone’s delight, even after so many repetitions
Maybe not. Okay, let’s try another tack. Was the past year special?
- One daughter got engaged
- Another graduated
- The third starting her university degree studies
- I escaped from the Madeira forest fires (not much of a story there, but I’m working on it)
- Three more short stories published
- Two more small parts in movies
And what do you hope for in the coming year?
- Another birthday
- Sanity to infect the world’s governments and electoral systems
- More anthology acceptances
- Huge sales of my upcoming novels
- Fulfilling my birthday resolutions
- Spend more time writing
- Spend more time on social media (which I sadly neglect)
- Sleep even less so I have time for the above
I wish each of you a great birthday when it arrives and a wonderful twelve months following!
(And more birthdays after that…)