It seems like all I can do before I go to sleep is think of the past.
I need to get to sleep - some weeks, I do have to be up at 6 a.m. - and I think of ... well, the past 58 years. I try to think about something more contemporary, and darned if it doesn't drive me back there again.
By now, I am starting to fear I will end up like the guy in the Twilight Zone episode who, on his nightly commute home, always sees the stop at Willoughby, a town he had once lived in, and eventually gets off the train there ... but I shan't spoil that one.
Don't worry - Steph and I are still quite infatuated with each other, the cats are a constant amusement ... but I no longer have the best profession in the world to work in, and I can't help but remember when I did.