Conversations

Yesterday I paused to take a photo of these beautiful autumn leaves framing Neptune’s Fountain in Cheltenham.

As I wandered around the statue searching for the best angle, an elderly gentleman walked slowly towards me, hobbling along with an elegant walking stick propping him up.

“There used to be a cinema there,” he said and his eyes lit up. “It was beautiful, it was completely fantastic with people spilling around the fountain but then it closed.”

He shrugged and laughed: “It doesn’t matter though because it made me a lot of money.”

We both looked up at the beautiful building, that’s now office space, and said how nice the weather was and how good it was to be out in the fresh air.

Suddenly he smiled, a big gap toothed smile, missing all six of his front teeth, and looking me straight in the eye said: “I’m going to die soon but it doesn’t matter because I’m happy.”

He proudly showed me his walking stick, saying that was the thing that kept him going and showed me its sticker from when he first got it. It still, very clearly, said 27 July 1938!

I wish I’d been cheeky and asked him how old he was, but he seemed content to just chat and enjoy the sunshine with some company.

As he wandered away, down Cheltenham’s quiet Promenade, I felt so deeply moved. That lovely old man really touched my heart.

If you can face the end of your life with a huge smile and a cheerful disposition, relishing the simple joy of blue skies and sunshine you’ve done something right. And if you’re reaching the end without regrets about beautiful things long gone, it seems to me you’ve lived pretty well indeed.