Time Waits for no Man (or Woman)

Image by fluterirl via Flickr

A Wanderlust-filled Wednesday to you all!
Time doesn't stand still and waits for no man or woman. We all know this and yet we procrastinate, mostly out of fear and anxiety, to have a go and follow our hearts and sometimes, even our conscience. Time is totally democratic-we all get 24 hours per day. The only variables are the number of days we are allocated, our circumstances and our mindset.
I reckon I have spent most of my life doing what was expected of me, but now is my time to spread my wings. At my exalted age of 86, with some of my marbles intact and a body that only mildly hinders me, it is my moment to spread my wings and fly.
 Better not do the Icarus thing from classical legend, where he used wax on his wings and flew too close to the sun. In Norn Irn,we would call that a 'wick' effort. No, no-one can hold a candle to me. In the absence, though, of the James Bond individual flying machine, together with my fear of heights, I will have to pass on the bungee-jumping etc.
No, what I am talking about is flying in the attitude sense. I now say what I like and take a few more gambles in the relationship stakes. This new found boldness does get me into scrapes. I find myself giving my opinion, before it is asked for and being what people call pass-remarkable about whom I like/fancy and vice-versa.
Strangely, I have noticed my nearest and dearest counting to 10 under their breath. Can't think what that's about!
The day I told my daughter that my preference was for natural blondes, like the sainted Joanna Lumley, my daughter bit her knuckle and went into a padded, lead-lined room, she constructed recently and didn't come out for a full hour. All I could hear was muffled groans and the occasional mumbled comment that sounded like, 'Why me, Lord?' When she came out, I gave her tea and sympathy. I think she has been having a hard time at work!
Anyway, folks, enough about how brilliant I am, I see that ladies in Coronation Street are seizing the moment, or the gigolo in their case, in the form of the excellent Nigel 'I play bounders' Havers! Apparently, the time and tide of the Aegean wait for no Shirley Valentines!
Also, I notice from my armchair that Mervyn King, the Governor of the Bank of England, has spared us a little of his precious time to tell us that the roller-coaster that is the economy might be heading for a double dip. Let's just hope that someone knows what they are doing before our carriage hits the buffers.
Finally, I never cease to be amused by football pundits, so-called experts, who constantly tell us with a straight face, that 'at the end of the day' footie is about scoring goals. Genius! Well, I don't know when this figurative end of the day is, but I'm getting on with making the most of my time.
Well, got to fly now. I'm going for sword swallowing and fire-eating lessons. My daughter suggested these to keep my mouth occupied. Charming!
Yours timelessly yet punctually

The blogging Gogfather