Nothing Wrong With My Eyesight.

My wife has been complaining about her spectacles for ages now. Eventually she was persuaded to go to the optician and have her eyes tested but it had taken a good number of walks before she would eventually admit she needed to have her eyes seen to.

I wonder what it is about growing older that is the worst. The aches and pains that come with age? Or is it the loss of hearing? Or maybe it is the eyesight getting worse?

She had kept checking her eyesight against mine. As we walked towards a signpost she would ask me to tell her when I could read it without difficulty. I played the game for ages before the penny eventually dropped what she was in truth doing.

I heard four men chat yesterday each one proudly telling the others how good his hearing, eyesight or whatever was. As I listened to them I laughed at them and said to them that I had come to the conclusion that they were in such great condition they would have no problems as long as they all stuck together. Between them they had all the senses in good working order, separately they all had at least one that was failing. They all laughed.

I suggested we start a club and call it, “The helpful coffin dodgers.”

It reminded me of the story of the old lad who played golf most days of the week. One day he arrived home at lunchtime and said to his wife that he was playing no more. “I keep hitting the ball and it quickly gets out of my sight and I lose it.”

His wife thought for a bit and told him he should ask his brother Jack to go with him. She went on to explain the Jacks eyesight was perfect. He decided to do just that. The next day the two of them met at the golf course. Bill teed up his ball and hit a lovely drive. He turned to his brother and asked him if he saw where the ball went. “Of Course,” he said, “I have perfect eyesight.” “Ok”, said Bill, “Where did it go?” “Ah,” said Jack, “I saw where it went but I cannot remember.”

Do you know what the very worst thing about growing old is? Being afraid to admit that you are in fact doing just that.

This blog is linked to my other where I speak of my latest sale.Motion and Emotion.

We Can All Grow Old.

 Yesterday I was asked four times how old I was in the course of an afternoon. Each time it was because the person had seen me out running and thought that at my age maybe there was something special about being out doing such stupid things. It seems that when you get older you are no expected to look for challenges just to get on with growing older.

I of course do not uphold with this belief, and I know that most of you who will read this agree with me. Nevertheless I found myself thinking about it. Having done so I am sure I came up with no wonderful thoughts or insights, but I did think about this.

Growing old is mandatory whereas growing up is optional.

Yesterday I had a pretty full day, I ran with my son, I began a drawing, I prepared three paintings for hanging in a new inn and delivered them and I met with two dear friends. All in all not a bad day and her I am a day older.

Now if I had stayed in bed all day, I would still be here a day older. If the young man I met yesterday who has signed a pact with alcohol had stayed in his bed all day he would also be a day older, but he probably would not have spent as much as he did or have the sore head I am sure he has everyday. It is so easy to grow older, it happens. Now growing up is something else, it is as I said optional.

Growing up does not come naturally, sadly day in and day out I meet people and see people who at an age you would think they would know better they still act in a very childish manner. They have grown older but they have not grown up.

Jerry and I have spoken often about life and its choices. Well I guess this is another one of these choices.

Do I just grow older or do I grow older while still growing up.

The doctor told me to start the excercise very gradually so today I drove past the shop that sells running gear.

I was sent a couple of jokes about choices and they made me laugh I hope they get your day off with a laugh also.

What would you think fitted best into your very busy schedule. One hour a day of excercise or 24 hours a day of being dead?

I was going to start jogging today but my toes had a vote and out voted me 10 to 1

Have a great day remember tomorrow you will be a day older.

Now What Was It I Came Up Here For?

When I am at home I spend a great deal of my time moving between downstairs and upstairs. My study and computer live upstairs and my art materials downstairs in the garage, where I have made a painting space. Now that I am fit this does not cause me any real problems in terms of getting up and down the stairs. I can in fact do that with ease. Nevertheless it still does from time to time cause me another problem. Sometimes I make my way to the study, stop, look around and wonder why I am there. I knew I came up for something, but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was. I have those senior moments.

I once had an old lady, a member of my congregation, who would appear at my door at all sorts of times of the day and night. I got to accept that she had wandered out of the house and now did not where she was. A cup of coffee a chat and off back home and she was as right as rain. At least she always seemed to remember the way to the manse. She was a lovely old lady, and even as she was, a good golfer. Her friend often took her to the golf course and they played nine holes of golf had something at the clubhouse and returned home. She would often ask her friend, “Remind my who you are again, because you seem like a real nice person.”

It was sometimes frightening to think she might come to harm, but almost everybody knew her and she always either ended up at the manse or home. She was fortunate in managing to see out her last days in the familiar surrounds of her own home. She died having had a long life and almost the whole village turned out for her last farewell. And we all took her to her last resting place.

I was told a lovely story that reminded me of this old lady.

The old man had arrived at the hospital to have stitches removed from a cut in his finger. He kept looking at his watch as he was assessed by the nurse. He told her he had a very important appointment at 9am. It was now 8.30 and there seemed little chance that he would make it.

The nurse seeing his concern spoke to the doctor and it was agreed she would remove the stitches put on a clean dressing and let him go. As she did so she enquired about his important appointment, was it with his doctor? “Oh no,” he said, “I have to go to the nursing home to have breakfast with my wife.” The nurse asked him if she would mind if he was just a little bit late. He explained that she would not; she did not even remember who he was as she suffered from Alzheimer's disease. The nurse looked at him and asked, “You still go to see her every day at the same time, even though she does not know who you are?”

The old man patted the nurse’s hand, looked her in the eye and said, “She does not know who I am but I know who she is.”

True love is neither physical, nor romantic.



True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.

My old friend Archie is 84 there was a time when I would not have been able to run alongside him he was so fast now he has difficulty walking from the shop to the inn. I still talk to him as a runner and I know he loves that that is how I still see him. Because when he looks in the mirror each day that is who he still sees.

This blog is linked to my other. The beauty of Age

The Garden Plot

It is a marvellous feeling when the seeds you planted in spring become the produce of the table. Once again I have planted far too many salad leaves and certain things. My family make fun as they go down to the plot and fill their plastic bags. My daughter having gathered a variety of vegetables was heard to say, “All this and not a checkout in sight.” I get great pleasure from leaving little bags of produce on my neighbours doorsteps.


It is also the time of year when little competitions take place. Archie, my dear old friend counts every potatoe he digs up. he makes little graphs of the number per plant, the weight produced by each plant, the number per row. He is so serious and yet it is all in good fun. He also gets delight in giving little bags of produce to friends.

He is already dropping hints that he wants to keep his garden going next year but will need my help to turn it over. I in turn am teasing him and pretending not hear him.

There is a lovely story about an old man around about the age of Archie, 84. His son each year would turn over his plot and allow him to plant his potatoes and vegetables. The son had been foolish and ended up in jail. The old man wrote to him.

Dear David,

I do not think I will manage to dig the plot the year or get my potatoes planted. I wil just have to do the best I can with the weeds till your release. Please think carefully about this foolish act of yours and do not do the same again. Maybe I will just mange to dig a small part of the plot.

Love Dad.

Two days later he received a letter back from his son.

Dear Dad,

Yes I have learned my lesson and it will never happen again I promise. One important thing though, please do not dig the plot that is where the loot from the crime is hidden.

Love David.

The next day three van loads of police arrived at the plot. They unloaded from the vans with boots and spades and dug the whole plot finding nothing.

The father wrote to the son.

Dear David,

The police have been here all day turning over my plot what will I do?

Love Dad.

The reply came.

Dear Dad,

Why don’t you just plant your potatoes and vegetables.

We do not have to be near a person to be able to help them or uplift them. Distance should be no barrier to the words of love and the kind action. If you have decided you would like to do something for another never let the space between you be a barrier.

Thanks again for the email it lifted my heart. I know you have read this with your morning coffee hope it warms your heart.

This is the way of the Tao. Noja Beach

Getting Younger Every Day

I am sure I have told this story before if not in the exact way, but it is worthy of another telling.


An old man was one day out walking. As he walked along the track a small elf jumped out from the bushes. “Hello,” said the elf, “I am here to grant you a wish. It will be just one wish and it will not be able to be changed back. You must therefore think wisely.”

The old man thought for some time. He was married; he had been for almost 40 years. His wife was the same age as he. “I would like to wake up in bed with a younger woman,” said the old man. “Granted,” said the elf, and disappeared.

The next day the old man woke to find himself 20years older.

Today I went back 26 years. I awoke and decided I would try a nice run. There is a lovely hilly run where I am staying, a run I have done often. I set off and a reasonable pace. Bang it hit me, I could not keep it up. I struggled and panted my way up to the top. Normally I would have kept going onwards and downwards. I would have returned and done the circuit again making a lovely eight mile run. At the top there was a bench, I sat and rested. In the end I did one circuit. I felt as unfit as I did before I began running some 26 years ago.

Thinking of the tale of the old man and his elf, I knew what my wish would have been. To be as fit as I was a year ago, that would be just fine. Now that in fact would be a wasted wish, because in a few weeks time, all going well, I will be just that.

As Jerry says often, no good wasting time wishing. Just get on with living. No good dreaming of skyscrapers when you have only a few bricks.

Today I have used two artworks and will say why on other blog:-  Two Paintings

Age Matters Not

I had an old aunt who lived in a tenement block in Dundee and a marvellous lady she was. She was of that ilk who never said die, always positive and always full of joy. She had a leg amputated at a very late stage in life and was offered a place in an old folks care home. Her sister had died at the age of ninety-four so she lived alone. Her reply to the offer was exactly what we expected from her, “Oh no I could not live there it is full of old people.” Her mind was as sharp as a knife and she insisted on her independence. She reluctantly agreed to have a telephone installed but drew the line at washing machines and all those new fangled gadgets.I still have her old washing board which she used right up until her death.

 My daughter studied in Dundee and she and my aunt became very close friends neither treating the other as if there was an age gap. Dundee boasts a nightclub called Fat Sams; she always had a notion to go there. She saw each day as a day full of new possibilities and would not tolerate people saying they could not do anything. She died aged 104.


Three sisters lived together aged 90, 92 and 94. The 90 year old went to have a bath as she was getting in she wondered if she was getting in or out, her 92 year old sister told her to wait she would come up and check. When she got to the top of the stairs she asked if she was on her way up or on her way down. The 94 old knocks her knuckles on the table and says,” I hope I never get like that pair.” She shouts up to them, “Just wait till I answer the door and I will sort this all out.”

Every day is a day with wonderful possibilities and today might be one full of surprises.

I am keeping this short today because I am up early, I have my trainers on and ready to go out for a ten mile run. Those who follow this blog and know what has been happening in my life this last week will now turn their heads and look at the calendar.

Have a lovely day and look again at my picture on the profile of this blog. Is that the little twinkle in the eye I used to see when I looked into the eye of my lovely aunt Liz.

To quote her, “Smile or I’ll kill ye deed.” For those not from Dundee that translates, “smile or I will kill you dead.”

This blog is linked to my other blog. On this other blog  I  have been looking in detail at  some of the art I have used on this blog in the past:-New Beginnings

Youth, Age and the Journey.

I have spoken of it before but I repeat. I remember when I thought my parents knew nothing. My father worked as a painter in a shipyard and my mother well she was just my mother. What could they know that I already did not know? It was later, with wisdom, that I knew the truth. My father had not ended up there because he had no brains but because he had eight brothers and sisters and a father who was a coal miner. At the age of fourteen he had to leave school to play his part in earning money to put food on the table. My mothers’ father had been killed in the war and her mother (my grandmother, who strangely I thought knew everything) had struggled to raise two girls in difficult times so she had left school to work in the jute mills of Dundee.


When we grow older it is easy to look at youth and remember when we were just like them. The next step is to wish that we could go back there and take with us the knowledge we have gained over the years. To have the fire of youth and the wisdom of age seems such an attractive proposition. The trouble is we would be aware of all the pain that cannot be avoided. We would be aware of exactly what was ahead in terms of the ageing process. To know there would come a time when I was still fit enough to run up the stairs but to then stand and wonder why I was there.

When I was teaching I looked at the young and became aware of how far they yet had to travel. I saw the adventure, the excitement the new possibilities with the speed of modern development. They as yet did not have the scars and the pains of life. Thankfully they were also blissfully unaware of the journey before them. When I see a baby in a pram I feel all of this, but I also worry of what lies ahead if we older ones do not start behaving differently in terms of our planet.

Life is indeed a journey and we are all at different stages of that journey. What is yet to come is a mystery. We all have greater wisdom that we did in our younger years. But there is still the mystery, that mystery brings with it a sanity we would not have if we knew the future.

The artist is aware of the world with its pains and it joys, its beauty and its disgrace. We have an inner urge to share this with others through our chosen mediums, and we are fortunate in that we have the ability to do just that. We also have an obligation to share it with others. The young may look at the older and wonder what if anything they have to teach but we strive to express in art what we do indeed know. We do not paint only for our own pleasure but to share the gained insight of the years. We also know that the young will one day be the elders and what we have taught them will begin to bear fruit. So we do not share in vain.

This is the way of Tao.

Age and Its Many Faces

Memories can happen with the simplest of events igniting within us thoughts of times gone. Travelling down a path I walked with my father as a very young boy I remembered those days with a fondness. It had changed, as all things do. Where there once was just a path worn by the tread of feet now there was a tar macadam path. Where there had been edges to look over in excitement now there were safety fences. All of the adventure had gone now it was just a nice footpath to be walked, or run. Every so often a little fingerpost to guide one on the way and the warning signs of steep banks and deep water.


Time moves on for all of us. Each day is another step on the onward journey. The ancients were fond of telling us that there were things that would only be learned from the process of ageing. That is true. Yet nobody ever wants to really acknowledge that we are growing older all the time, and the older we get the less we want to admit this. But let us reflect on what this for just a moment.

Rather than concentrating on the span of years let me give you this to consider. There are different levels of consciousness, depending on the age we have reached. What the teenager knows, (even though they often think they know everything) is just perfect for being a teenager. In fact those who try to stay as teenagers long after they have moved past that age can look so foolish. What the elderly does is perfect for the elderly, anyone else who mimics the elderly can be accused of being ageist, and look foolish. There are benefits for each age and each level of consciousness. It would be good though if there was more respect between each age of this fact. There is nothing wrong with being in tune with ones age; it is the way of the Tao.

Now here is the important bit. None of this means that we cannot begin new things, things that others might have begun much earlier in life. There are people who begin running marathons when youth deficiency is beginning to raise its head. What must not be ignored is having started late there will not be much opportunity to represent your country at the Olympic Games. That come from the consciousness of the age, so they run to be the best they can.

Art offers new opportunities for all ages. It offers the feeling of new beginnings and a feeling of adventure and freedom. It allows expression for all at what ever level of consciousness. It bridges the gaps of thinking and allows expression of thought. I will be the expression that grows from the level of consciousness but that is the way of Tao.

Where so much of the adventure of life is being factored out for the artist each new project is one of adventure.

I had another thought that we need to take time to learn. It is important to take time to learn at all stages, and to give ourselves time. If life is a constant rush and we have no time to learn at each stage of life then we will arrive at old age having learned nothing.

The painting above is the portrait of a man full of worldly wisdom.