Gratitude

On the last day of my sixties, I am thinking about how I feel at reaching 70, (assuming I get through the night...) and it is gratitude. Seventy is more than either parent was granted, and I still feel deeply disturbed anger about that. My father, packed off to war aged 19, away from home and girlfriend for six years,(his r’n’r spent in Alexandria; he was unable to eat figs for the rest of his life!), returned to become a lively committed member of his community, a principled and dedicated parent, and did not deserve that bloody cancer and death in his fifties. My mother, also a firm supporter of society, volunteer, community worker, recoiled from a lifetime of small c Conservatism after she saw how the people she worked with were devastated by Thatcherism, also should have had longer to enjoy the travels she looked forward to in her retirement.

What a privileged generation we post war baby boomers still are. Benefitting as we have from the hugely brave political decisions taken in the late 40s, free NHS, education, foreign policies, many of us are appalled by the sacrifice of all the progress we have enjoyed, by a couple of carelessly casual elections and a referendum. But I am grateful to have survived long enough to feel such despair at the state of our country, its betrayal by those who, wrongly, consider themselves fit to govern us.

Perhaps the angst is a symptom of my age, anyway.  Great-Grandchildren who my parents would be thrilled by, (Dad never saw his grandchildren,) are excited and enthused by the world, they will cope with it having known nothing different. Although what are we handing them, a degraded environment? Species collapse? Ecological imbalances that are a threat to every natural living thing, especially the human species? P more than despairs, it is flippant to say he is more like Victor Meldrew every day, unkind to smile at his “Dad Rants” as son calls them surruptitiously filming them on occasions. He thinks, worries, analyses all the degredations of our current political scene, appalled by the sheer inward-looking selfishness of the referendum vote, the incompetence of those determined to go ahead with it rather than bravely challenge the attitudes that caused it, the cruel judgemental opinions of some of the louder mps.

Grateful is what I am, though, I can ignore those ignorant self serving politicians and go for a walk. We live in a beautiful county, the river our town sits by is beautiful at all times of the year, with otters and fish visible in its clear waters from local paths. The sea, coastal nature reserves, rolling cliff-tops, wonderful beach cafés are a short drive away, as are dramatic hillforts with wide inspiring views from their tops.

And breathe.
Next time I talk to you, I will have to acknowledge that I am, officially old.