Bathed in warm glow of nostalgia
AS a youngster, I had such high hopes of everything.
Life in 1960s Shoreham was secure.
If you lived here then, by the age I am now (49), you were settled, looking forward to retirement, probably having reduced your working hours and filling your free time with leisure pursuits.
Now, I find myself facing an uncertain future '“ very different from my "game plan" of long ago.
I'm working harder than ever just to pay the bills (especially my professional fees) and to save a little; I have two concurrent careers (as a podiatrist and freelance writer).
My pension fund has become a nightmare, eroded by the state of the money market.
But, as they say, that's life these days.
At least I'm not in debt.
With political correctness, any fun has long since been dimmed out of living, so one looks to take pleasure from the smallest things.
A hot cup of tea, chocolate, curling up with a good book, owning a cat or a dog '“ to name but a few.
And the unexpected find in a local charity shop of a CD of Mrs Mills piano favourites; I'm listening to it as I'm writing this.
Perhaps it's a sign of growing older that one looks back to a gentler age which is bathed in a warm, nostalgic glow.