I am a ‘has-been’, a ‘former this’, an ‘ex-that’ and a ‘past everything’. Although my children never believed I was anything other than an embarrassment, there was a time when I was quite a big fish in a small pond, with some influence in larger lakes.
I was a GP and senior partner in a Portsmouth group practice.
But now I’m more plankton than fish – a piece of flotsam, all washed up.
An early intimation of life as a has-been occurred shortly after I retired for the first time (it took me four attempts over five years to stop working) when I found myself in a supermarket early one Monday morning.
Apart from the absence of working-age people, it was the sight of dejected-looking older men, meekly pushing trolleys a couple of obedient paces behind their bustling wives, that left an indelible image.
I recognised some of these old fellows: a former chief executive, a recently retired GP, and a retired admiral. As they trundled around the supermarket, obsequious and forlorn, I thought to myself, one day this will be me!
But life as a has-been is not at all unpleasant, providing one is fortunate enough to be financially secure and in reasonably good health. It doesn’t have to be endless days visiting garden centres, interspersed with crossword puzzles and daytime TV. I am more content with my lot now than at any time in my adult life.
For Father Time, so long an ever- present, hectoring sergeant major barking out orders and deadlines, has become a friend. Without the tyranny of emails, countless meetings and long commutes, I have time to stand and stare.
Because of the recent pandemic and lockdowns, I have had ample opportunity to stand and stare; to observe Nature’s cornucopia of wonders. A bumble-bee ponderously hovering a few inches above the ground in early spring searching for a family home, a red kite spiralling heavenward on invisible thermals or the subtle scent of a bluebell carpet drifting on the breeze – these are just a few examples that have captured my attention for many languid moments.
Time has become a friend, as days meander into one another. Time to think; to reflect on one’s past, to rekindle an interest in mathematics and to write poetry. Freed from the prosaic, I now play more chess, saunter along country lanes and scramble up hillsides.
Of course there are downsides. Joints and muscles ache a little more. Pills are popped with increasing regularity and friends become ill, as the era of four weddings and a funeral becomes four funerals and a wedding.
But the grim reaper aside, life, for an indeterminate period, is more about play and old dogs being taught new tricks, which for me, unexpectedly and astonishingly, has meant learning to fly. I am on course to gain a private pilot’s licence before the year is out.
I realise belatedly that I have had the immense good fortune to belong to that lucky generation who have thrived in a postwar period of economic prosperity, peace in Europe (until recently), affordable housing and loan-free education.
Meanwhile, science and technology have relieved much of the physical burden of living. Combined with social change, this has led to greater freedom, opportunity and tolerance.
How this has-been is enjoying his great fortune in later life.
