Is there a period in your own personal life that you think of as the good old days? Tell us a story about those innocent and/or exciting times (or lack thereof).
My salad days,
When I was green in judgment, cold in blood…
Antony and Cleopatra.
Hmm… There were certainly times when I was green in judgement, but as for cold in blood… Although I wouldn’t be surprised if my blood does get a bit chilly in winter, along with the rest of me. But ‘salad days’ in the sense of youthful, carefree innocence… I was probably born a hoary old bat, at least mentally. And if anyone had told me schooldays were the happiest of my life, I’d have likely said, so shoot me now, and I’ll guarantee I wouldn’t have been alone.
Not that my life’s been one long serve of leathery meat and overcooked Brussels sprouts. There have certainly been good times. But just keeping life on an even keel can be damned hard work, and until you outgrow the agony of angst and the useless torture of worrying about the future… No salad for you, my friends!
Then we get to ‘the good old days’. Oh c’mon! Sure they had their good points. There’s a lot about modern society I’d happily reverse. But they had their bad points, as well. And most of all, I have no intention of wasting the time I have left hankering after something I can’t have, and probably see through the distorting mists of cataracts.