Not many people welcome being 55, I fancy, but I do. Maybe it's just me being perverse again, but in spite of everything that's been going on - aches, injuries, illness and all - I actually welcome being 55 and being able to call myself a senior citizen at last.
It seems like a good time to take stock of things and plan for whatever remains of the future. I'm still determined to lose enough weight so that when I finally conk off, the undertaker won't mistake me for a pig and put me in the wrong oven. I'd still like to play much, much better tennis - not being too ambitious and learning to play with what I can do best rather than trying to hit every kind of stroke that exists seems the only way for me to go at this point. I just don't have the talent or coordination to do more than keep everything simple and focus on getting the ball back in the right place with what I already have in my repertoire. So, I guess no more superduper half-volley topspin backhand winners (I only manage to pull that off once every hundred times, anyway.)
More importantly, I really should bunk my children's - sorry, Young Adults' book off to a few publishers and try to get that out before Christmas 2014. It's been 10 years since I started on it and in between writing the second and third books of the trilogy, I've still been fiddling away with the first one. I'm too much of a perfectionist, I know, especially when it comes to fiction. I'm far less fussy with my non-fiction and I've never had much difficulty getting those published, even if they come out under someone else's name. But then, writing and trying to get published a good story under my own name is much more personal and like any parent, I want what's best for my first story book.
In the mean time, I did manage to get rid of a couple of pounds of fat. Hopefully, I'll manage another one or two pounds every week or so.
