Two years ago I decided to reward myself with a qualification as a Diplomat. If I was in another relationship I would not have harboured that idea at the age of 53 when I should have been eying up my pension plan and becoming familiar with my grandchildren’s school run on Google Maps. I would advise my children and step-children to play it safe by opting for a stable partner who is risk averse. It’s always a leap of faith when Google help you to find a wife-even if she turns out to be a teacher. I live with a partner who is hyper supportive and backs me in whatever I choose to do-no matter the risk; if I decided that I want to dance in the eye of a hurricane for the rest of my life the only question that she would ask me is if the music is loud enough for her liking. Surely, the idea of two risk taking, eccentric atheists living together are more dangerous than a category five hurricane. None-the- less our love is like a bout of flu -it is even more dangerous for us as we continue to age disgracefully together.
Twelve months, four hospitalisations and two major surgical operations later, I have completed a Master of Science degree in Diplomacy Statecraft and Foreign Policy. My head is humming, I feel knackered as a race horse that has completed a long stint at the Epson Dows race track and is awaiting the conveyor belt to become the next batch of Whiskers cat food. Okay, I am a bit cleverer than two years ago. I am now convinced that education is a scam. I also know that Donal Trump is a ‘prick’ and Theresa Mays Chequers deal is heading for the pits, but so does everybody else. I am paranoid as hell these days. The only person I trust is my partner and the British National Health Service. Over the past twelve months they have both helped me to cheat death four times in addition to completing an academic degree. Had I been with anybody else over the same period I would have either been a dead dog or a mad ally cat.
For an old man like me with over fifty years of experience under my belt I am now certain that the promises of the advances of medicine and modernity are also a hoax. The only thing that has improved for grumpy old men is that the Viagra script can be bought over the counter at Boots Pharmacy without intrusive GP asking embarrassing questions about stiffness. These days I disapprove of political jokes as too many of them have been elected recently.
From now on I intend to play it safe; no further grand academic scheme can lure me out of collecting my pension package and travelling around London on my freedom pass. The only leap of faith I will take is having my daily shower. I have had my fair share of stabs in the dark at education. If ever you hear of leap of faiths again it won’t be me – it will be liberal elites trying to get a second referendum vote.
This article is a creative writing project that using dark comedy as part of a branding platform aimed at attracting different demographics to wider issues undertaken by Kingstonmouth.com. Written by Donovan Reynolds and edited by Ann Smith. KIngstonmouth.com is an online magazine that explores issues to include Human Rights, Politics, Psychodrama, Diplomacy and International Development. Reader’s comments are always appreciated via Facebook or email@example.com.