After my final newspaper deadline, the search for me begins

The beach where I live.

I stopped counting how many of my friends and former colleagues had passed away when I realised that a lot of them were my age or younger at the time of their death.

I’m 57 as I write this; 58 very soon. A quick internet search tells me that the life expectancy for Australian men is 82.45 years. If that’s the case, I should be good for about another 24 years. Except that, according to this calculator, 67 is about my lot. Coincidentally, or not, that’s the age at which I can claim a state pension (if such a thing still exists then).

Continue reading “After my final newspaper deadline, the search for me begins”