Fifty

Yeah, I turned fifty last week.  Might as well memorialise it here in my journal.  Below is the photo I took that day as I walked into town for a glass of wine and a stop at the food hall.  Which, I guess, looks as bleak as most of the photos I take.  But the air was crisp and clean, and the sky was nigh cloudless and the sun was bright and hard.  Reminded of that line (and many others) from Cohen’s “Tower Of Song” –  standing by the window, where the light is strong.  It’s a song I identify with more and more as I age.  Or, at least, understand more.

Fifty doesn’t feel too bad.  Although I feel compelled to mention the extremely mild barely-there recurring headache I’ve had for a couple of weeks, to strike that doomy foreshadowing note if it turns out to be a brain tumour.

See?  I can still make jokes.  Not dead yet.

Or, as the other guy said “Well… yes, and here we go again.”