An inspector calls

I got inspected this week.  It feels a bit weird!

Actually, to be strictly honest it was my house which got inspected.  I rent my house from a charity and my excellent landlord has all houses inspected periodically to make sure that they are up to current standards and safe for older people to live in.  It’s not my housekeeping which was inspected, just my house.  For which relief, much thanks as Shakespeare said.

I wonder if we ever get past the stage of being inspected.  It starts at school with exams.  Actually I didn’t mind exams when I was at school but when I tried to sit some more as an adult I got SOOO stressed.  Then more exams to enter a profession and exams and practical inspections throughout our working lives. 

And that says nothing about the times when we just feel we are being inspected, judged or otherwise put under scrutiny.  Sometimes the world can feel like a very hostile place!

For me one of the joys of getting old is that the world actually feels less critical – or maybe I no longer care so much!  No-one can fire me from a job as I haven’t got one.  I have no need of more exams or qualifications.  Even when my house is inspected I can’t get terribly worried about it.

And that’s another joy of getting older.