Where is the younger me?

Where indeed is the younger me, I didn't see the going of her.

I ventured to suggest to Tim  that I could go to London but it was pointed out to me that this is a totally unrealistic expectation, it was just not going to happen.  

And I got to wondering - I know I joke at pushing 80 but I never SERIOUSLY thought I was getting old, and here it is, staring me in the face, and just when did I leave behind the younger me?  Like I said, I didn't see the going of her.    The one who drove through the Canadian Wilderness to the farthest outpost on the Hudson Bay. and across Europe almost to the Black Sea, facing off bandits(well, almost) in the remote areas of Romania. and now - at pushing 80 - or at least 78 - I  can't manage the London subway system.

Of course it could be argued that in these dangerous times, where terrorists can strike anywhere, the London subway system is more dangerous than the bears in the Canadian wilderness.  I wasn't going to wander about among the bears.

I went out with Tim  to pick up some shopping, and rushing through the streets of Oxford passed the place where Cranmer, Latimer and Ridley were burned at the stake, which always tugs at my Protestant heart strings.

Note - I photographed this historic site, but am having a problem transferring photos to my computer.