Time Moves On. But We Remember.

Even they grow old.

I have listened to a great many older people these last few days as they remind us of the horrors of war. The only other thing I hear is the talk of Brexit when the UK lets it be known it no longer wishes to be part of that union that was set up to try and make sure there would be no more wars.

But this is not a day for such matters. My wife reminded me this morning that I am getting like those old people and hammered home the point by saying all going well you will be there in ten years.

Old age, ah. A famous comedian once said of old age.

"Tennis is a game for young people. Until age 25, you can play singles. From there until age 35, you should play doubles. I won't tell you my age, but when I played, there were 28 people on the court,  just on my side of the net."  yes I have often felt like that.

I feel a bit like an old motor car. As I get older, the differential starts slipping, and the u-joints get worn, causing the drive shaft to go bad. 

The transmission won't go into high gear and sometimes has difficulty getting out of low. The cylinders get worn and lose compression, making it hard to climb the mountains of life.

When it is climbing, the tappets clatter and ping to the point where one wonders if the old bus will make it to the top. The carburettor gets fouled with pollutants and other matter, making it hard to get started in the morning. 

It is hard to keep the radiator filled because of the leaking hose. The thermostat goes out, making it difficult to reach operating temperature. The headlights grow dim, and the horn gets weaker. 

The memory chip drops a few bytes, and the battery needs constant recharging. 

But if the body looks good with no bangs, dents or chipping paint, we can keep it washed and polished, giving the impression that it can compete with the newer models and make one more trip down the primrose lane before the head gasket blows. 

Let us get on and do what today must be done. I am putting on my kilt and heading to the war memorial surrounded by the beautiful tubs of white poppies we planted for just this day. I will be there with the community wreath.  so start your engines. 

But remember these words.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

Have a meaningful day.