LIBERATION in the place least looked for

Originally known for her work as a book editor to the greats (and the grumpies) and then for her writing on aging, Diana Athill always speaks crisply, courageously, candidly, and without even the littlest bit of self-pity. Not surprisingly, her thoughts on moving into a retirement home at the age of 91 are both interesting and counter-intuitive. As Sarah Lyall points out in yesterday's New York Times, she found the experience of the move suprisingly freeing. “You gradually become aware of how liberating it is,”Athill says in Lyall's article (which is based, in turn, on a piece in the UK's Daily Telegraph). “Not a single domestic worry do I have.” And, she continues in the Telegraph,


At breakfast today I sat in my little room thinking how odd it is that I never get bored by my things. Then I realised that nothing in the room is here out of habit, or because it was given me by dear old so-and-so, or because I couldn’t be bothered to get rid of it. Everything, from the carpet to the biscuit tin and including of course the too-many pictures, ornaments and books, is here because, however uninteresting it might be to others, I love it. It’s as though “possessing” has been distilled down from being a vague pleasure to being an intense one: less is more. When I first saw the room in its bare state it shocked me: how could I possibly live in that tiny space? And now I am happy in it.


I love that comment, and its unexpectedness. If you do too, check out the Telegraph article in its entirety, and/or dip into one of the author's books.

I feel no desire to rush toward retirement-home living. Yet as I sit here today, I have to confess to the teensiest, eensiest bit of envy. I spent much of the morning finding someone to remove a swarm of honeybees from their nest under my house. (Thanks to Ronnie Slade of Clements Pest Control, who was prompt, personable, and reassuring despite the weirdness of a bee-proof suit.) I spent much of the afternoon making up for the morning. It's now evening, and I have a piled up desk, a piled-up mind, a piled-up laundry basket and a piled-up to-do list. If only there was a piled-up dinner plate waiting for me. Anyway, less stuff of all kinds looks pretty appealing right now.

Then again, Athill has emptied out her stuff but not her life. She still welcomes activity such as travel; in fact, her schedule makes me feel tired. "That is something all us oldies should bear in mind: until it becomes physically truly impossible, keep on doing things," she writes at the very end of the article. "In my experience it always turns out to be worth while."

A good reminder that having less doesn't necessary mean either doing less, or enjoying less...and that at 55, I'm not as old as I feel at the moment!