The materials we are made of do not pass through any quality control. What is more, the design itself leaves much to be desired. Apart from anything else, it would be preferable if the wear and tear of the passing years did not leave us unrecognizable when we look in the mirror. The prodigious advances seen in medicine, along with a better diet, which means each of us choosing what we most enjoy, have greatly lengthened our stay on his blue planet, all the bluer for those of us who live by the sea. This is a privileged land, although not all are aware of the privilege. We live a long time, and could live very well if we would only learn to shake off a number of stubbornly troublesome questions. The fact is that over the last five years, the rate of mortality has fallen in Spain by 7 percent. And not just that: the difference in the proportion of men and women passing away has fallen considerably.

It used to seem as if we men were the only ones who died, meaning you could say that any Spaniard walking arm-in-arm with his wife was also accompanying his widow. Fate, and it is quite clear which of the three, has imposed her quota, and thanks to equality the obituaries are gradually evening out. In any case, one regret is to be found in something which has always obsessed me: why does human life have its final stretch extended, and not the middle? All that is achieved by prolonging our existence on the last lap of the race is an increase in sales of rubber-ferruled walking sticks. The true miracle of science would be to wind back the clock, for example, at around about the age of fortyfive. “Maturity, divine treasure”.

Since I left that figure behind some thirty-five years again now, if I remember aright, it is down to me to make do, and here I am: happy to continue enjoying my status of modernity. Smoking a few cigarettes and drinking my gin and tonic while I pen these modest but sincere reflections.