No retrospection, no boring memories, I don’t have the time or inclination. I prefer to look forward, and outward.
My grand-daughter and I were talking about birthdays this morning, and I mentioned that I have a photo of myself at one year old, on Aberdour beach in 1943. My mother sent it to my father, then serving abroad in the RAF, and he brought it back with him when he was demobbed.
In the intervening years I’ve changed a bit, but I still like playing on beaches.