Really there is little that surpasses the excellence of a balmy summer breeze! Such is the atmosphere today. After having spent a lifetime not having to bear deprivation, I am currently adapting myself to today’s economic reality. My erstwhile extravagance was predominantly the product of the lines of credit of every chartered bank of the Dominion of Canada (with an immodest measure of succour from the mortgage securities).
But this is past. No more trinkets and silliness. The former retail model – like youth – has dwindled with time. Gone are the porcelain and mahogany (sadly along with the salon grand harp). And the precious Persians (like a collection of fine paintings). Instead now I face a more proximate obstruction. There really is a tomorrow; but after that, look out! I think you’ll agree the warning is ambivalent at best. That business about possibly “no tomorrow” is overtly contrary to bank policy. Nonetheless within its scope (shall we say its psychological boundary) is the oddly digestible sense that we are unsure about when our time is up. With no time to waste the warning is beautiful but potentially treacherous. So what shall we do for the rest of our life together?
Editor: Note if you will the conjunction of “life” and “together”. This does not however signal that there is no life after death. It’s just another of the “proximate” limitations I’ve mentioned. First things first. That sort of truism.
Given the published prophecy of time limitation, we have so far only booked two ventures over the next two years (2024 and 2025). The first is to my beloved Hilton Head Island. Honestly I have never recovered from the feeling of instant relief I recall when going onto the island from the mainland, whether the entrance were by way of baronial gates or not. Thence we shall go. This was a last minute arrangement from which we suffered the consequence of delay. At first there was nothing available. It required connecting directly with our long-time favourite estate agent in South Carolina to cure the defect.
The second venture we’ve booked is an East Caribbean cruise.
We’re presently restricting ourselves to these two adventures. It’s all part of the overall adaptation of our new residential environment and unprecedented changes in the world. We’re discovering that having opened up but only one “alternate” affords a wide berth for other possibilities in the world of travel. We’re including in this altered state a number of travel insurance changes. If we limit our vacation to 40 days (which we can extend by returning home for 24 hours) we avoid having to pay specialty travel insurance. Another more practical reality is that, as we age, we are content to be more homebound (for which as always I credit our amazing municipality). But until we throw in the towel, we continue to discuss other possibilities, including naturally travel by train.
used to refer to something considered uninteresting, predictable, tritely familiar or old-fashioned.
“last year’s electronics are already old hat”