The Oldie

Will you miss me when I’m gone?

My wife is looking forward to my death.

I don’t mean she is eager for my departure: she is simply anticipating it with a not-altogether-flattering degree of enthusiasm. Since the first lockdown, we have got into the happy habit of taking a daily walk together.

We aim for 10,000 steps and we take them in assorted directions in the vicinity of our house. As we walk, we talk, and most of my wife’s chatter runs along the lines of where she

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