You gotta laff… On getting old and enjoying the bit before you die.

I’m getting old.

Whatever it was I was once good at is not what I’m going to be doing in the years that are left to me.

Instead, I’m going to…

…well, I haven’t figured that part out yet…

(TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK)

…and I’m trying not to spend my days…

(TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK)

…listening to my life counting down.

So my wife bought me a poetry book – “I meant it to be for Christmas but there are too many things about grief and death in here so I can’t give it to you for Christmas but you can have it now” called “Stressed Unstressed” which made me smile.

“There is one good poem in there,” she said. “It’s by John Betjeman” and read “The Last Laugh” to me.

She was right.

As I try to answer the “What Do I Do Now?” question, I’m going to try and take Betjeman’s advice and look for laughter.

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