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A Stool to be Melancholy Upon
Tomorrow is my birthday, which will take me into the very midst of my mid-fifties. It occurs to me today that I have (within a month or two) also now been a university lecturer for exactly half my life.
In my rage for symmetry, I wonder if I am doomed to lecture for another 27 and a half years, before retiring at 82? It's not impossible, the economy being what it is. Thereafter, I will decline gracefully into the sunset of my dotage, before expiring gently at the at of 110, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, etc.
Actually, maybe I'm already sans taste - otherwise I'd have a much sharper wardrobe.
In my rage for symmetry, I wonder if I am doomed to lecture for another 27 and a half years, before retiring at 82? It's not impossible, the economy being what it is. Thereafter, I will decline gracefully into the sunset of my dotage, before expiring gently at the at of 110, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, etc.
Actually, maybe I'm already sans taste - otherwise I'd have a much sharper wardrobe.
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