Growing Old Graciously

Ron was going over to Downderry this afternoon, and I had some serious housework planned, so it didn't take much persuasion to hitch a lift with him to Hessenford and walk Ty the rest of the way through Seaton Valley and along the beach. We had a pleasant and peaceful walk, comparing the progress of spring in the valley with Saltash (fewer daffodils, less advanced ramsons, lots of primroses, smaller and fewer tadpoles than at Latchbrook but some newly laid frogspawn, etc). There are kingcups flowering in the marshy bits of the valley - we don't get them at home at all.

I'd expected the tide to be fairly high, but in fact it was battering against the sea wall after the onshore gales of the last few days. The steps at the end of the wall down on to Downderry beach were well under water, giving a choice of the long way round (a couple of extra miles up a steep hill along a very busy, narrow road with no footpath) or scrambling down the end of the wall over the huge granite lumps and bits of fallen cliff of which it is composed. Well, I don't like it but I've done it before, it's OK as long as one takes it carefully, no problem.

Ty ran on ahead of me, tried the steps, turned back, skipped lightly down the boulders and was playing with a couple of other collies on the beach by the time I got to the end. The young couple with the collies greeted me nicely, asked me if I was going back, and when I said I was going on to Downderry scrambled up the wall to 'show me the best way down' although actually (I suspect) to keep a careful eye in case the poor old lady slipped and fell. And then we strolled along the beach more or less together. Lovely people, nice dogs.

When I got where I was going I mentioned this incident, and it was suggested that perhaps I should have resented the interference and the implication that I was incapable of looking after myself. I hadn't given it much thought till then, but no, I didn't resent it, I wasn't embarassed, I was actually quite grateful for their solicitude. So it would seem that not only do I look old, I'm beginning to think like an old lady as well. Is this a bad thing? I don't think so - but it's getting obvious that I'm no longer seventeen even on the inside!