Teary and depressed.  Not something I can force myself through to the other side.  Must be lived I guess.  Seems this blog is only a venue for complaints and whinging.  Talked with Fran last night while we walked.  Thirty years ago, despite the busyness and emotional upheavals, much of my energy was devoted to those penultimate questions; who am I, why am I here, what is the meaning of life.  Now I seem to tread water, waste time, endeavour to juggle a few balls in the air.  Where is the wisdom which comes with age?  Suspect when people die of old age, they are quite happy to go.  They must be soul tired.  And so tired.

Just listened to Graham Koehne 1914: Jim's Solo, Solitary Paradise, the Bird Sanctuary.  Achingly beautiful.  When all else fails, there is music.