I really enjoyed reading this, and (unusually for The Guardian!) many of the comments were actually worth reading as well, but I wasn't quite sure where to post it. My first thought was the Snug, but it's not really pub chat material.
Anyway, although I realise it's a bit OT, as I'm in the fortunate position of not needing help myself, I felt that it might be enjoyed by others - https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfr ... st-moments
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This could be the last time
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- Lemon Quarter
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- Lemon Quarter
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Re: This could be the last time
https://yt.artemislena.eu/watch?v=bjq_hOtv1TE
Heraclitus hit the nail on the head when he said “You can never step into the same river twice”.
Heraclitus hit the nail on the head when he said “You can never step into the same river twice”.
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- Lemon Half
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Re: This could be the last time
I had read the article and I too found it interesting and thought provoking. I have had the thought more often as a get older that, "this might be the last time". It reminds me to make the most of things whenever possible.
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- Lemon Half
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Re: This could be the last time
Such a lot of bittersweet emotions in that article, which I hadn't read before. (Thanks, CK.)
For decades, my wife and I used to visit a particular hill-walking area in southern France, and every time we packed up the tent and set out on the 600 mile drive home we would cast a wistful eye over the place, taking care to enjoy it as if it we were seeing it for the last time. And eventually it turned out that we were, because health issues made it too difficult. But the joy of having experienced it is undimmed. Thanks, not least, to a million digital photos.
I don't have digital photos of the times I got shot at, tear-gassed, or felt the intense crowd harmony at Glastonbury or its rock predecessors, but they're as real as they ever were. I don't have pics of the last time I changed an exploding nappy, but it's still as precious, for all that. If I popped my clogs tomorrow, I'd still say I'd had a brilliant life. But then, I've been luckier than most.
And what's more, I've never had to watch somebody march away to war, perhaps never to see them again.
The night before my mother died, in hospital, I helped her to do the easy version of the crossword in the paper. She was in her mid-eighties, and she needed a few prompts from me, although I took good care to make sure it was her and not me who found all the words. She was gone a few hours later, quickly and unexpectedly. But her delight at completing the task will stay with me for ever. Better than any goodbyes.
BJ
For decades, my wife and I used to visit a particular hill-walking area in southern France, and every time we packed up the tent and set out on the 600 mile drive home we would cast a wistful eye over the place, taking care to enjoy it as if it we were seeing it for the last time. And eventually it turned out that we were, because health issues made it too difficult. But the joy of having experienced it is undimmed. Thanks, not least, to a million digital photos.
I don't have digital photos of the times I got shot at, tear-gassed, or felt the intense crowd harmony at Glastonbury or its rock predecessors, but they're as real as they ever were. I don't have pics of the last time I changed an exploding nappy, but it's still as precious, for all that. If I popped my clogs tomorrow, I'd still say I'd had a brilliant life. But then, I've been luckier than most.
And what's more, I've never had to watch somebody march away to war, perhaps never to see them again.
The night before my mother died, in hospital, I helped her to do the easy version of the crossword in the paper. She was in her mid-eighties, and she needed a few prompts from me, although I took good care to make sure it was her and not me who found all the words. She was gone a few hours later, quickly and unexpectedly. But her delight at completing the task will stay with me for ever. Better than any goodbyes.
BJ
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