This is how the New Year of 2013 blustered into my home.
Lots of invidious comparisons like the demands for money-making or penury made themselves important in a loud and loutish way before the Xmas fat was even rendered.
I am getting old but can still walk and plan and replan and replay a decent seven mile walk from Robin Hood’s Bay to Ravenscar in North Yorkshire. My mother, down south in deadness of once death dealing Royal naval Portsmouth, is getting old but can’t get around, can’t get up nor down stairs sometimes without what is called “taking a tumble” face into the wall. Sometimes she can’t recall where the stairs are.
She wants to move up to Yorkshire to live with me.
Strong versus Weak. Old versus Young. Everything of everything in everything?