RETIREMENT

I'm about ready for a Friday. For some reason, all my muscles are aching and my eyes feel really tired.

I missed dinner last night. After waiting around for the cricket guy to lock up the pavilion, I went home and just went to bed.

I had this really weird dream that one of my friends had detachable arms which could read my thoughts. In the dream, I was astonished when he casually told me what I was thinking while twisting his shoulder blade back on. I tried not to think of things I didn't want him to know, then found myself thinking about things I didn't want him to know, then woke up in a panic.

"You really must try to eat while we're away," my Mum reminded me this morning. The Intrepids are off to Wales tomorrow on a coach trip through Snowdonia.

"I'll be fine," I said.

Retirement sounds great, you know. I wouldn't mind a coach trip through Snowdonia! My Dad will strike up conversations about science, the weather or the Northern Lights or something with anyone who will listen. My Mum will probably try to finish reading Little Dorrit and the coach driver will put on a CD of hits from the 60s to the grey-haired delight of his passengers. Actually, maybe retirement doesn't sound that great, thinking about it.

Then, it's a funny idea anyway. I'd guess that in the future, work and life will merge and intertwine so closely that most people won't know which is which - you can't retire from your life, you just change things as you grow older - work changes shape: from factories to babysitting or book writing or painting or fixing clocks or whatever floats your boat. I guess you get to choose which set of prosthetic arms you connect up for the day.

Right now, I'd settle for an afternoon snooze and a cup of darjeeling.