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Local Ipswich News > Blog > Local Seniors > Does anybody cogitate anymore?
Local Seniors

Does anybody cogitate anymore?

By Geoff Hillier

Local Ipswich News
Local Ipswich News
Published: February 22, 2024
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Geoff Hillier cogitates on life.
Geoff Hillier cogitates on life.
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In this short yarn, Geoff Hillier, remembers back to a certain time, when…

I was about 8 years old, on holiday, staying with the grandparents. They lived in Poole, Dorset. I remember my grandpa being very quiet in his favourite armchair. He remained still and I could not hear his breath.

My Mum came in and said in a low voice “What are you doing with Grandpa?”

I said, “I think he is dead.”

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Mum looked and said “No, he is only cogitating.”

Grandpa opened his eyes and said, “When you are as old me you will also cogitate,” closed his eyes, snorted, and that was that.

I have reached the age of my grandpa and at 80 finally understand what men do when “cogitating”.

I lapse into “musings”, and view my life, such a good life, starting in England until the age of 20, then off to Australia for 7 years, back to the UK because my lovely wife, who I married just before we became 10-pound poms, found out that her mother had cancer. We took our daughters so she could see the grandchildren.

We stayed 4 years, and my work took me to Europe, the States and Africa where we lived for 20 years until 1994, when we escaped to Brisbane.

I have observed many types of “Cogitating”. The Brits have a class structure, and the Peers and politicians have a way of “cogitating” where views are exchanged without many words as they sit with a scotch or brandy. It is a slow process, and the results roughly take the same time as maturing a good whiskey.

I see similar in the Pubs. It’s a men thing.

During trips to New York the same happened, the older you became, the clubs and pubs were superseded by the front veranda or the park bench. The best “cogitating” I saw was in Africa where the culture is steeped in history. In the country and on the small farms the old men “cogitate” under a tree.

The women bring brewed sorghum or mealie meal beer, and the old men watch the women dig the plot, harvest the corn, and grind the seed.

In Mexico “cogitating” is done under a sombrero when sitting on the ground with your back to a wall, more of a solitary process but equally satisfying. My conclusions about “cogitating” is that it is like watching a black and white movie in your head: your life, journeys, success, and failures, what the world and your progeny are doing.

So when you see this process of “cogitating” happening, leave quietly, or maybe if you ask nicely you may be given some words of wisdom.

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