Seventy-three

Seventy-three, not a bad year at all. Comparisons with today suggest themselves. I was at the time based in Germany, as far north on the island of Sylt  as far south as I am now in Bavaria. I was earning just enough to get by... as I am now... and my schedule was such that I was free from early afternoon. Today this is also the case.

In '73 it was my habit to head for the dunes with my portable radio where I listened to the two English-language stations with a strong signal, the BBC Forces Network and the equivalent broadcaster to the American military. .Much of the reporting concerned concerned the looming energy crisis

Forty years later the radio station is BBC 4 via the internet, and the looming crises are many and varied. And am not sunbathing in the dunes. Nor am I looking forward to drinks later with the adorable girl pictured... nowadays I am usually just one more old man on his own in the local pub.

Which obliges me to admit that there is no reason for a blog post looking back on the year 1973. Pertinent is the fact that 'seventy-three' is the age I shall have reached on the morrow.

I have nothing particular to say about old age, Cicero having put it so well a long. long time ago in De Senectute...

"No one is so old as to think he cannot live one more year."