July 4th 2006
I was thinking this morning, about Kristin Scott Thomas, like you do, and how much of my future life I’d be prepared to give up for a night of unbridled passion with her. A year? No. Even for an all-nighter with the luscious Kristin, the woman of my dreams, a year is just too much to give up. I’m sixty eight now, I’m still quite active, I still have a fair few of my faculties functioning more or less properly, so I’ll still be well able to derive quite a bit of enjoyment out of another twelve months on earth, even if part of the enjoyment isn’t slipping Kristin Scott Thomas a length.
A month then? Would I give up a month of whatever life I’ve got left for a night with Kristin? Yes, that would seem to be fair swap, I’d probably go for that.
But would I feel the same about it if I asked myself the same thing at age ninety? Question – “Razzamatazz, tomorrow is your ninetieth birthday. You can either spend it in the company and in the bed of the delectable Kristin Scott Thomas and her eager beaver, then drop dead the day after? Or you can live on until your ninety first birthday, thus enduring another twelve months of rheumatoid arthritis in every bone of your body, incontinence, Alzheimer’s, spondylitis, hardening of the arteries, varicose veins, rickets and death watch beetle before you pop your clogs? No contest. It would be Kristin, without a doubt.
This poses the question – at what age would a man or woman give up twelve months of life in exchange for living out their dream, say at the age of thirty?
For example a man might fancy being a multi-millionaire for a week, He would enjoy the multi-millionaire lifestyle with all its trappings – the Ferrari, the luxury penthouse flat in Mayfair, holiday homes in the south of France and Antigua, the friendship of the rich and famous, the finest clothes and accessories, the finest wines (or lager if he’s a lout), the finest food, and of course an array of beautiful women at his beck and call and between his sheets whenever he wanted them. But if he accepted this he would die at age sixty (if he hadn’t already died from all the excesses he’d subjected himself to whilst he was enjoying his multi-millionaire lifestyle, that is). A bit young, perhaps? Seventy then? Eighty?
Answers please in my Comments section, stating your fantasy and at what age you’d be prepared to die in order to be allowed to live it. Your fantasy must be of no more than one week’s duration.
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Razzamatazz
Hi. I’m Terry Ravenscroft, I’m aged 67 and…..whoooah, come back, I’m not ready to have the lid nailed down on my coffin just yet. Anyway I’m a very young 67. (About five years ago I went to see Pulp at the Manchester Evening News Arena. I was older than everyone else by at least 35 years. The eighteen-year-old next to me asked me if I’d ever been to the venue before. I replied ‘Yes I saw George Formby here once’. She’d never heard of him.)
This blog is going to be about my life and the way I see things. Before I retired I was a comedy scriptwriter for Les Dawson and Smith and Jones amongst others so there’s a sporting chance that some of the things I write will be funny. One of the reasons I’m writing this blog, although by no means the only reason, is because I have a website www.topcomedy.co.uk which I hope you will log on to occasionally. I have yet to meet anybody who doesn’t like Dear Air 2000….
My hobbies are walking, playing crown green bowls, watching football, birdwatching , cooking, and, according to The Trouble, moaning. Oh, and I have a thing about Kristen Scott Thomas.
A couple of people I will be mentioning from time to time are The Trouble and Atkins Down The Road. The Trouble is my wife. I don’t call her The Trouble because it’s cockney rhyming slang for ‘wife, trouble and strife’, but because she has the habit of starting sentences, especially to me, with the words ‘The trouble with you is….’ Then goes on to complete the rest of the sentence with words like ‘you never listen when I’m talking to you’ or ‘you never see the other person’s point of view’ or some such other frivolous complaint. Atkins Down The Road is my best friend and lives, not surprisingly, down the road.
I started a weblog a couple of years ago but stopped doing it to write a novel about golf called ‘A Good Walk Spoiled.’ If you want to read the weblog it can be found on my website, if you want to read the novel it can be found on my other website, Razzamatazz, at www.razza.fsnet.co.uk along with lots of other things.
Hi. I’m Terry Ravenscroft, I’m aged 67 and…..whoooah, come back, I’m not ready to have the lid nailed down on my coffin just yet. Anyway I’m a very young 67. (About five years ago I went to see Pulp at the Manchester Evening News Arena. I was older than everyone else by at least 35 years. The eighteen-year-old next to me asked me if I’d ever been to the venue before. I replied ‘Yes I saw George Formby here once’. She’d never heard of him.)
This blog is going to be about my life and the way I see things. Before I retired I was a comedy scriptwriter for Les Dawson and Smith and Jones amongst others so there’s a sporting chance that some of the things I write will be funny. One of the reasons I’m writing this blog, although by no means the only reason, is because I have a website www.topcomedy.co.uk which I hope you will log on to occasionally. I have yet to meet anybody who doesn’t like Dear Air 2000….
My hobbies are walking, playing crown green bowls, watching football, birdwatching , cooking, and, according to The Trouble, moaning. Oh, and I have a thing about Kristen Scott Thomas.
A couple of people I will be mentioning from time to time are The Trouble and Atkins Down The Road. The Trouble is my wife. I don’t call her The Trouble because it’s cockney rhyming slang for ‘wife, trouble and strife’, but because she has the habit of starting sentences, especially to me, with the words ‘The trouble with you is….’ Then goes on to complete the rest of the sentence with words like ‘you never listen when I’m talking to you’ or ‘you never see the other person’s point of view’ or some such other frivolous complaint. Atkins Down The Road is my best friend and lives, not surprisingly, down the road.
I started a weblog a couple of years ago but stopped doing it to write a novel about golf called ‘A Good Walk Spoiled.’ If you want to read the weblog it can be found on my website, if you want to read the novel it can be found on my other website, Razzamatazz, at www.razza.fsnet.co.uk along with lots of other things.
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Hi Terry,
you blog reminded me of George Best’s comment something like – ‘I’ve spent my money on women, booze and cars, the rest I wasted’.
I’d like to be thirty again when I reach seventy, everytime!
I don’t think I would make the swap. I would be too afraid that it would go wrong and I’d end up dying the next day or something! Good post, though.
Comment 1 of 20
I’m 49 in December. I’d cheerfully pop my clogs from 80 onwards if I could have 5 million. I’d invest it during the week of my fantasy n live in luxury ’til 80. 75?….yeah go on then. 70?…er…well ok. 21 years of luxury? Any younger? No. Not unless Keira knightly was thrown in as a bonus anyroad…