“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow” – Peter Culley (29th)

OK, I know its not original (my thanks to The Bard for this priceless piece of prose from ‘Macbeth’) but as a ‘taster’ or introduction to an article about sheer mind-blowing boring routine, it could not be more appropriate. And, in any case, it will serve to jog memories of the immortal words that follow which – as we all know are:
“Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
to the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
the way to dusty death.”

Now well into my 80’s my life has changed immeasurably from what it once was – both in physical and all other terms – and I have had to cope with these changes as best I – and those around me – can. After all it was not so very long ago that I actually had a real life job, which actually paid me real money and bestowed an air of dignity and accomplishment upon me. Of course, even then there were days (not too many I’m glad to say) when I found the effort of getting up and going to it something of a bore, when one was tempted to ‘pull a sickie’, or one drifted off into daydreams of the day when retirement would liberate me from the need to conform.
Well, retirement descended some time ago, but proved something of a mixed blessing. Not only did I miss the social interaction (and the money!) but too often I found myself adrift and at a loss, but – even worse – like many others of my sex I found myself getting under the feet of that other person in this relationship who – as I was reminded – had no recourse to any such retirement! I quickly realized that one’s perception of retirement was closely linked to one’s financial reserves that helped make it both palatable and exotic.
On top of all that the onset of infirmity as a consequence of getting old tended to place restrictions on the extent to which one capitalized on one’s freedom from employment. Gone are the days of dashing off to exciting foreign places; of very long walks; or climbing mountains; playing squash; etc., etc. I am not quite ready for the knacker’s yard yet but there is no denying the pace of life has slowed. And it has largely fallen into a fixed pattern that meets our everyday needs, but which – one might fairly conjecture – has elements of boredom involved in it. Hence this article about routine.
An example. Most days now begin – once the initial prerequisites have been addressed – with what can only be described as the somewhat boring ‘News Paper Run’; my short journey by car to a local Sainsbury’s where I can purchase our regular paper. This involves carefully exiting our driveway onto a minor road that merges with a dual carriageway down the hill to a roundabout where I turn off at the first exit and proceed towards the shop in question. On the way I encounter first a mini-roundabout with long-standing pothole, followed by a speed bump which slows me down somewhat before I signal a right-hand turn and enter the car-parking area of said shop. All very predictable and unexciting – I could do it with my eyes closed. A voucher is tendered, a paper exchanged and I return to my car, electing for the return journey to climb a narrow road back to my home at the summit of the rather incongruously named ‘Shepherd’s Lane’. So far, so boring.
But even in this pedestrian activity there is a nasty punchline. Having settled into my chair at home I proceed to peruse the newspaper in the hope it will inform me of the state of the world and mankind. And it does, in spades. By the time I have read of the war in Ukraine; the situation in Gaza; the threat posed by Iran’s nuclear programme; China’s intentions towards Taiwan; our drive towards net zero; etc., I find myself fretting that my grandchildren will soon be engulfed in yet another world conflict that I am powerless to prevent. Perhaps, on balance, being bored ain’t so bad after all.