When we grow old we become encumbered with wisdom. This wouldn’t matter if it were only our erstwhile golf companions who now try to avoid us. But we find when dining out and we cannot a moment longer refrain from informing the company of today’s dire writing on the wall, that they tend to talk among themselves as if for all the world – and its imminent demise – we are behaving like the teenage and unstable prophetess Cassandra. I’ll remind you that that young woman’s predictions were always right… but never believed. And she too found that invitations to dine became more infrequent.

In a previous ...


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