“I think you should give him a break. He is only fifty after all. He’s a hot head. He’s still into building sheds isn’t he?”

“I guess. I suppose you really only start to mature once you get to a hundred.”

“Exactly. He’s a kid. Let him be. How’s your dad getting on anyway?”

“Oh, well you know, still enjoying life, but after you get past eight hundred you have to stop worrying about your health don’t you. Eat right, get checked out a bit more.”

“You do. My dad went at eight hundred and thirty. Just because he wasn’t looking after himself. And by the time they caught the cancer it was too late. Killed him in twenty years. So sudden.”

“Wow, just like that?”

“Yeah. And then mum was gone just another fifty years later. I felt like I had barely grown up at that point. Left to fend for myself.”

“You’re what? Five hundred now?”

“Oh god! Don’t remind me. What’s that, at least halfway right?”

“Oh don’t be silly.”

“No really, it’s worrying me now. I’ve done basically nothing in life. I mean I’m still working in management. By this point most people have prime minister for five years by now haven’t they? Or at least in the cabinet. You did.”

“Well yeah, but don’t judge it like that, I had some good connections. Running for election is hard. Not for someone of advanced years.”

“Is that what you’re saying? That I’m old?”

“Nooo, no no no. Not at all. Look. I think what you’re having is a mid-life crisis. You’ve gotten this far and now you feel like you haven’t achieved enough. Everyone is worrying about age once you pass triple digits.”

“Yeah I guess. I suppose I’ll probably get over it with time.”


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