ABOUT

I'm notoriously camera shy, but to acquiesce to the needs of online profiles, some years ago I sat on the couch and took umpteen snaps. This is the result, face frozen, smile rigid, communicating I-wish-i-was-elsewhere. But this is a new website, and I will soon try again, this time to look more welcoming, and with my daughter as photographer. To be continued... 

 

Before I put up my own image, I'd inserted an image of a pumpkin grown on my allotment, which still seems like it would reveal more that is true about me than my own caught-in-the-headlights expression. I have an allotment, where I compete for produce with slugs, snails, rodents, birds, rabbits, weeds and the weather. I love squash in all forms - souped, roasted, puréed, au gratin, baked in a muffin or bread - though eating them now gives me heartburn. I love the feel of them, their smooth or knobbly or gnarled surfaces. I love that they become sweeter as they age. Every year, I'm astonished anew that from a small oval seed grows such a hardy, heavy, magnificent and delicious seed body.

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I'm now old, to the point where I have crossed the threshold from old to elderly. I'm among the first to be offered Covid vaccines. I have a bus pass. I receive winter fuel payments from the UK government (thank you). I benefit from free eye exams and free prescriptions (thank you).  

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But this is the section of a website where I'm expected to list work history, achievements and current projects. Let's get it over with. Work, mostly theatre. In my youth, manager of Wyndham's and what was then the Albery Theatre in London's West End. In my 50's and 60's, manager and programmer for what was commonly referred to as "Cornwall's premier theatre", Hall for Cornwall. Achievements: I was good (mostly) at my work, but my greatest achievements came between jobs - bringing two children into the world who have grown into good people. Projects: this website for one, and Displaced Persons, about which there is more elsewhere on this site, and living well as an old person, which, I have to tell you, is the challenge of a lifetime. They say old age isn't for sissies. and 'they' speak truth. The choice now is to pull the blanket over my head and wait for death to call, or throw the blanket off, get to my feet, and seek out what makes life worth living. Is joy still possible in old age?  

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At 3 a.m. in the morning, one doubts the existence of joy in old age. Our future is behind us. Ambition has reduced to just getting through the day. At 72, my mother sought out a therapist to help with depression. "Of course you're depressed," he told her. "You're coming to the end of your life..." (Spoiler alert: I'm now older.) I live alone, and the worst place to look for joy is in bed at 3 a.m., awake in the dark.

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But there are other times and other places. And my antennae are twitching.