I was at a garden nursery recently. Something struck me as I watched the other customers as they queued up with their purchases, anxious to be parted from their onecers.
There was a very distinct difference in the purchases between the forty somethings and the seventy somethings. The former were purchasing perennials and young trees, The latter were purchasing packets of mustard and cress and trays of bedding plants. I don't imagine that this was a conscious decision by the blue rinse, (increasingly blond), brigade and their down trodden acolytes, but it is strangely apposite. Maybe there is some subliminal message telling us that there is no point buying plants for posterity if we won't see it.
I think that I am at the indeterminate in betweenie stage. I can still visualise a future which is over the hill and out of sight as yet, but I do know that the future is shortening.