The sun was shining. I was sitting outside a pub (suprise, suprise). A couple of old gentlemen were sitting across from me.
‘You look a bit down, Jack.’ one said to the other.
‘So many things going wrong at the moment.’
‘My sister in-law’s broken her ankle. Skiing.’
‘Your wife’s sister? How old is she?’
‘What the hell’s she doing skiing at her age?’
‘She goes every year. I had to arrange her flight back. There were complications. She had to see her specialist. And....’
‘Son Steven’s business has gone bust. He’s desperate. He wants me to lend him £50,000.’
‘£50,000 ! Your not going to give it him surely?’
‘He’s ill with worry.’
‘Jack Jack, Jack. You’re going to make yourself ill.’
‘What can I do?’
‘I’ll tell you my theory, Jack. Any problems you can’t sort out. Forget them. Like your feckless son and the Mrs Jean Claude Killy 81 year old twit. Let them stew in their own juice. Mend what you can and forget all the other stuff. It’s a waste of time.’
I looked at Jack’s ‘philosopher’ friend as he sipped his wine contentedly. My nearly finished pint was in front of me. I should go home. I’m late already. ‘Mend what you can’ Well my glass needed ‘mending’. I ordered a refill. That old man was a genius.