Sounds like a plan! We’ve engaged in some Swedish death cleaning (döstädning) to reduce the amount of clutter for the child to sort out when we go. Originally, we wanted to be planted in a pod under a tree, but such cemeteries are quite rare in the UK so it looks like it’ll be a standard cremation. Talking of which, we’ve also picked our death songs for the service.
It could hit my portfolio? What portfolio?
That was indeed the joke!
Indeed! Morbidity (as opposed to mortality) is the major concern to me these days, so I’m doing as much as I can now just in case I can’t do anything in the years to come. If I drop dead then all is good, there are no issues. If I’m stuck at home but still alive, at least I’ll have some good memories to look back on.
I always thought I’d be immortal. So far (63-ish) so good. Dying’s the last thing I plan on doing.
And yet we’re still planning to send Charlie over for a State visit to the orange cunt ferfuckssake.
I’ve picked up quote a few new (to me) artists and songs via streaming shows. One that stands out is Netflix’s DARK, the montage soundtrack for which is utterly superb and almost none of which I knew before.
Go Your Own Way - Fleetwood Mac
I wouldn’t have gone to that one either.
As far as I’m concerned, anyone who travels from Europe is a complete idiot. I’m thinking about including the teams in that definition too.
As a retired person: no, apart from by other retired people in the village, because we help each other out with our different skill-sets.
We still have a few friends but they are scattered; we meet mostly at funerals.
Politicians think we’re too expensive (healthcare, pensions, etc.) although they’re careful not to be too nasty, as apparently we vote more than other demographics. The fascists think we might vote for them (not a chance).
The young are busy with their own lives as they should be and so we are mostly seen as an inconvenience or, at best, a future inheritance. I’m fine with this: they’ve got it tough and we help where we can.
The AI crowd know we’re too old for that shit (we remember all the bubbles). We don’t buy much stuff either, so the capitalists and advertisers aren’t happy with us. The pub likes us but wishes we’d visit more often. The fund managers are going off us as our pension funds dwindle. I think the lady in the corner shop has a good opinion of us, although she thinks I buy too much beer.
She’s 60 and rich; why would she even want to go back to work? But then I don’t understand why anyone with financial freedom would choose to give up even more of their life for money they don’t need.
Fuxk off, Randy. (Sorry buddy.)