The Golden Years

Are supposed to be when ageing…if only.
Times have changed dramatically, no longer the optimism of the sixties or seventies.
Life was full of freedoms, Life was free…never had much, yet life was so good.

In the fifth form, we were really into music, and we threw huge parties. The Yardbirds had the idea to form a group, Top Topham’s idea, and Eric joined later. We were a small group, not very popular with the admin of our school. Eric Clapton was sent home for wearing pointed-toed shoes and later expelled for playing his guitar at art college.
I often wonder how the directors/heads of those schools felt when Eric became famous, and also Top Topham and Christopher Drejer, making more money than they would ever see. We were enjoying music, art, literature and spending money.
I would often bump into Pop stars, even Mick Jagger, in the King's Road or the Antique market. Jimmy Page had made a pile of money in his teens, too. And I used to see Billy Connelly and his daughter Daisy.
Even a can of soup was ‘Art’

I now do a monthly shop for gluten-free food. A couple of days ago, I was carrying two heavy bags, and it was pouring with rain. I wasn’t sure how to haul the shopping onto the bus. A sixteen-year-old asked if she could help, and we sat together. I spoke about sixties artists and my friend’s huge art collection that she should visit. Who was Mick Jagger she asked, and Jade?
I felt like royalty, she and her friend carried my shopping through the bus station with an umbrella held over my head. Those two delightful ladies were art students, hungry for knowledge, and promised to see my friend's art collection, which includes so many famous artists, even from the UK. In spite of rainstorms, it was a magic day, another good-looking, suntanned adonis carried my shopping off the last bus to my home front door. Poured with rain all day.

Then I pondered…getting into the ‘BLUES’. Old age has its own magnified problems and it ain’t cheap. Many old friends are no longer around.
My best friend went into a care home, to me, it seemed like a lonely prison, deprived of tv (just a blank screen), no internet, music and friends. A sign out with security just to walk in the garden, not the happy smiling faces in the ads, for sure. Apparently, real prisoners have better healthcare…fact check
Old age ain't cheap, so make sure you ain't poor to maintain a lifestyle, to enjoy your time.
Even many pets in their heated igloos have a good life in comparison to many care homes. That was a revelation to me! Pets never used to have electric blankets.
Would you prefer family or be in a care home? I realise I dislike restrictions and regimentation, and being escorted by security guards. My friend told me he met a lady who had escaped from a home three times. Good on her.
Well, there must be some good ones?
I need to paint, draw, and create. That may not go down well.

So play the golden oldies, and the Blues, chat with friends…Enjoy.
What are your views?

My friend's house and collections, I spotted a Bratby there.
John Bratby kitchen sink art, fifties and sixties.

Dining room.

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No politics or religion, please, respect all who comment.

Lian and Kieran