Getting Old

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Getting old sucks.

Or does it?

I’m fascinated by what’s happening to my jawline and my neck.

It’s both appalling and life-affirming.

Appalling because I remember being young and (relatively) beautiful.

Life-affirming because I’m still here, and I knew lots of people who are not.

Like Mick Ransome, my first love who I dated for 3 years before he realized he would be happier without my drama (and later met a lovely woman who made him happy in ways I couldn’t). And Lynn Horgan, who was my colleague for a few years and who always made me laugh. And Richard Snowdon, who was an amazing artist.

They were all lovely people, and they all died in the last 2 years. I bet they’d each be happy to be suffering from a few extra lines and some unexpected jowls.

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