keeping mind and body fit in retirement
We may have modified the ways we think, we may have changed the ways we eat, all for the better one hopes, in an attempt to stay healthier longer - becoming more philosophical, eating more cheese, looking to postpone our mental end-date, that fateful future point when our minds start to retire.Did you know that if you interrogate Google or Wikipedia for a list of French cheeses it will return over six hundred different varieties? That's enough to give Liz 'the Cheese' Truss* nightmares. And an online search for French philosophers generates a list with four hundred and fifty names on it. Combining such random samplings suggests to me the French may be the most philosophical nation on Earth (as well as the biggest cheese-eaters). Consequently, when it came to something poetic for the week-end, I thought: do you know what? They deserve a poem, or at least the Existentialists among them do. Here it is then, an imagined narrative about the sunset of retiring minds, in all its Gallic tragi-comic glory...Strange Days At The Maison D'EtreJean-Paul Sartre has been a bit tart lately,didn't like being told not to smoke his pipein bed. "It is not a pipe", he said.He claims he vapes and what's the harm?But when the alarm goes off, such chaos."These people make me sick", he confidedto Simone, thinking he shouldn't have tofight the fascists more than once in his life.
And as for Miss de Beauvoir, her behaviourhas been giving the team cause for concern.The second sex is mentioned in the loungeshe rolls her hips, unzips her skirt and starts to flirt like a fishwife with residents, staff, even visitors, this once so dutiful daughterthen beautiful siren of Free France. Onlythe Outsider is never target for her charms.
Poor Albert Camus is a stranger to himselfthese days, a silent man, confused spiritin a rangy goalkeeper's body, wanderingthe grounds, fielding his invisible footballs.He doesn't know it but he's waiting for thefull-time whistle to blow. Still physicallyfit, he dresses himself, polishes his bootsalmost religiously, but that's about the limit.
So Jean-Paul, Simone and Albert, comradesof a great resistance long ago, creators oftheir own essential twentieth century selves barely exist now, wait hardly philosophicalfor reprieve, a happy or a very easy death.But on sunny afternoons, old Pere Voltaire can sometimes be seen digging the garden. Funny how he seems to linger timeless on.
*I couldn't sign off without giving you another chance to chuckle at Liz the Cheese, the uncoolest woman ever to hold high office. To watch her making a cringeworthy fool of herself with that speech to the Conservative Party Conference faithful, just click on the link>>> the appalling Liz TrussThanks for reading, S ;-) Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook