Let us never know what old age is. Let us know the happiness time brings, not count the years. - Ausonius
This past week, I've celebrated two birthdays. My own (64) and my oldest friend who is 65 and as I write sorting out his lump sum, pension, and bus pass. I remember this man in tight black cords, long black hair, beard and never without something interesting to say. The cords, hair and beard have long gone, but he remains the most sweetest guy and still has lots to say.
We celebrated along with another close friend, in a stylish cafe in the middle of our hometown, Coffee, tea and excellent food were all served up to three guys, chewing the cud, mostly about our shared passion of photography, but also about life and it's daily challenges. All three of us have our ups and downs, but every couple of weeks we get together to shoot images, and discuss the photographic black arts, as we all come from backgrounds that included darkrooms and developing tanks.
Our regular meetings are vital for my mental health, and I know the other two guys feel the same. It's a trinity of friendship and fun, sadly lacking in many people's everyday world. Do I feel 'old'? No, not a bit of it, if you take away my bad back, creeping arthritis, and oncoming cataracts. But even with all this, my mates will still be there. At least I hope they will.