My father-in-law is an avid gardener.  He visits local garden  centres at least three times a week, and always for a scone and tea lunch.  You might think this is a bit obsessive or even sad but it lends structure to their week and gives my mother-in-law, who has dementia, some sort of physical and mental stimulation.

Quite frequently he’ll also buy a plant or two.  Some might be bargains but some are quite expensive plants (at least by my parsimonious standards).

I asked him once why he shelled out such large amounts on fully mature plants, when I would get a much cheaper, smaller specimen.

He said “I’m 91.  I might never see the one you’ve bought mature.  You think I’m buying a plant.  I’m not.

I’m buying Time”.