The Life in My Years

An anthology of life

“I don’t get why this is so fucking difficult.” That was the gist of my daughter’s text message to me last Saturday morning. What was it that was so fucking difficult? A new transmitter for her diabetes monitor still had not shipped and without the transmitter the monitor was just useless hardware. Monitors can give …

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You passed them by as they left and you looked the other way, awkward, nothing to say.  They were already gone, ghosts who’s memories haunted the productions lines.

“You see somebody down on the course and it’s just extremely grounding and scary. That could be you in the next kilometre, the next 500m. It was really scary and intimidating and daunting. I’m just really grateful to have finished standing up.”

No less than the President of the United States proclaimed, “Shaken, not stirred, will get you cold water with a dash of gin and dry vermouth. The reason you stir it with a special spoon is so not to chip the ice. James is ordering a weak martini and being snooty about it.”

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