There will no doubt be a lot of different interpretations on this one Fandango.
I’ve already explained about meeting deadlines in a previous prompt post. I suppose this goes hand in hand with that regarding the pace at which we all had to work to meet them.
When I was working, life was pretty much living in the fast lane, that was when traffic was actually moving when I tried to get home at night. A two mile journey would take ten minutes in the car going, but almost an hour coming back. It was rush, rush, rush, and we hated it.
One of the reasons for moving away was to get away from all that and follow a dream, which sadly didn’t come to fruition. Still, we were unofficially retired, under training wrinklies, and at least able to work at our own pace, not one forced upon us by other people or circumstances.
As I sit in the chair here, the pace of life around us is pretty calm despite the holiday season. We are sufficiently distant from the main town and amusement arcades not to get caught up in car space fights, rowdy kids, drunken brawls and the never-ending noise.
Our road is used by beach visitors who do not wish to pay for parking, but so far none have blocked anyone’s drive, and apart from some heated words by frazzled parents with equally frazzled kids, it hasn’t been too intrusive.
However, you cannot match the pace, or lack of it, we experienced and enjoyed living on the boat. Everyone was so laid back, they were almost horizontal. It didn’t matter what your background or wealth was, we all had something in common, the fact that we were boat owners. Our boat loved to putter around 4 mph. That’s not a typo, four miles an hour, though we had a top speed of 6 mph.
Retirement, and life, was relaxed. Snails could pass us and wave as they reached the finishing post, but we didn’t care.