I was discussing “retirement” at work yesterday at the water fountain.
I am not sure I am quite up to speed with the whole “retirement” thing I can’t be retiring, I am not that fucking old!!!
Then again my body constantly disagrees with my inner 26 year old, there’s a particular kind of mischief in that, isn’t there,the body filing quiet complaints while the soul is still lacing up its boots, convinced there’s a whole road yet to be walked before teatime.
I have a sense that somewhere inside, the clock stopped, not in denial, not in refusal, but in continuity, I seem to want to continue 15 August 2026 indefinitly I have not become a different person as I accelerate towards 66. I have just collected years in one of the boxes of stuff in the mancave and I remain the same essential self who was once 26 and thought nothing of late nights, early mornings, and grand, slightly mad ideas.
The difference now isn’t the loss of that younger man, it’s the negotiations you have to have with him. He still says, and Bill and Vitor will know this McDonagh reply i hear in my own head nealy everyday “Let’s go. It’ll be grand.”
The correct answer i give myself is ,
“Aye, but we’ll bring sandwiches, check the weather, and maybe not walk both ways, let’s get Val to pick us up”
That’s not giving in, that’s learning how to keep the adventure alive without paying quite such a brutal price over the next 3 days.
And truth be told, the younger version of me was running on credit. Energy, resilience, the ability to bounce back from nonsense decisions, that was all borrowed time. What I have now is something I didn’t back then, perspective, memory, and the ability to choose your adventures rather than simply fall into them.
The trick, I think, isn’t to silence that 26-year-old voice, but to keep him as a companion rather than letting him take the wheel. Let him suggest the fishing trip, just maybe drive to Seneril Bridge instead of cycling, bring a flask, take my time, and enjoy the river rather than conquering it. Because the truth is I haven’t lost the adventure seeking “me”. I’ve just changed the terms of engagement.
And if I listen carefully, there’s probably a third voice now too, not the young man or the practical present one, but something older, calmer, the “essential” me that says:
“You’re still here. That’s the real gift. Now, what shall we do with the day?”
That’s not the end of the story it is just a different kind of beginning.
Now is the Bogsnorkling championship on this year?