When I was 15, I grandly announced that I would end my life when I reached 50, as there would certainly be nothing to live for and no point growing older. When I turned 50 I went into a bit of a slump but not because there was no point continuing (as my deluded 15-year-old self had supposed), but I didn’t feel I had achieved enough. My mother had died at 65 very suddenly and the realisation that I might only have 15 more years to do everything I wanted, was frankly terrifying.
After a few dismal weeks, I pulled myself together and started to make some plans. And that was when my love of all things long and distant started to grow.
I was horrified recently to discover that I have just scraped into the Boomer generation, but more delighted to know I can be called a zoomer - someone who takes life by the scruff of the neck, kicks it around a bit and does whatever the hell she wants with it.
Join me on a sporadic record of my journey to challenge and charge at life, to kick it in its ageing balls and to do my own thing. It’s a record of a rapidly ageing woman with little talent, taking on challenges totally beyond her and having a laugh along the way.