I was thinking this morning about things I always wanted to do and whether or not I have enough time left to do them. The most important, writing fiction, I do daily. I like it as much as I thought I would, spend three or four hours a day doing it, have worked at it since retirement and have gotten good at it. (Publishing fiction is another matter; semi-achieved goal.)

But those I wanted to do:

1. learn to sail a boat

2. learn to ride a horse

3. learn to speak another language well

4. learn to play a musical instrument well.

I am 67. Let's look at these long desired goals. Sailing: probably never do. I don't swim well enough to muck about in boats on the water. The nearest I've come to this was building a boat from a kit - about 18" long. The boat looked like the one in the picture. I remember sanding it. It had to be satin smooth and that takes a lot of sanding.

After building the boat, I sailed it on the Calgary Reservoir. It escaped me and a kind man in a boat returned it. After that, my son played with it in the bathtub until he broke the tall sail stick.

It was still a very satisfying experience - not the sailing, but the wood crafting. All in all, I'm not a good woodcrafter. All that sanding is not fun. But I'm glad I did it.

Very different from my experience with riding horses, which was not at all satisfying. I took a course in riding the summer I was 30. Horses are large, stupid, try to step on you and rub you against barbed wire fences. I took the class with my daughter, who was eight. She was much better than I was. Everyone in the class was much better than I was. It is the only in my life I've been the absolute worst at something. It was good for my character.

Teachers should have to experience being the worst in the class, having large unpleasant men yell at them and having the rest of the class impatient because, as the large man said, I was holding them all up.

Horse back riding was, as they say about almost any very unpleasant happening, a 'learning experience.'

Learning to speak another language well is something I've flirted with off and on for years. When I was nine years old, I read books. It was almost the only thing I did other than required chores. I was afraid I'd run out of books to read so it seemed sensible to learn another language. I went to the library language learning section and started with the first: Albanian.

All I remember of Albanian, based on the very old teach yourself book, was that if you are attacked by a dog after sunset and before sunrise it is your own fault and the dog and dog owner have no liability. What were you doing wandering round the hill tops in the dark? Obviously up to no good.

In Grade three, in Austin, my son's best friend was Korean. He wanted to learn something in Korean to surprise his friend. I checked him a teach yourself Korean book out of the library. He returned it to me, saying, "This book doesn't teach you how to say anything a sensible person would want to say."

(My son and daughter are both very good at learning languages - they are much less lazy than their mother. Memorizing is like sanding.)

I studied German at university and learned enough to read Brecht. Not enough to read Thomas Mann or Gunter Grass. As a postgraduate, I took Urdu and went on the Berkeley Urdu program to Lahore. To whinge a little about language problems in Lahore: most people in Lahore do not speak Urdu; they speak Punjabi. Most want to practice their English. The newspapers are impossible to read because of the type. (I could pick up incidental German vocabulary by reading; not in Urdu.  I ended up able to negotiate social situations and talk about health and health care - my dissertation topic.

The time I felt really, really competent as an Urdu speaker was when I went to Swat. Everyone there had learned Urdu as I had, in a classroom, probably using the same text book. We had many fine conversations about the fruit market and it was a very satisfying experience on all sides.

Currently, I'm listening to CD's from a teach yourself German course. This can qualify as an on-going goal, not yet surrendered.

I went to Berlin last year. I could say things but could not understand the answers. I was in a market and asked the stall holder a question. He answered at great length, then, observing my mystified expression, broke off and said, "Do you want me to speak English?"

"Yes, yes, yes," I said.

The people around laughed.

But I will learn to understand as well as produce sentences in German. (Note the use of 'will' rather than 'shall', suggesting determination rather than simple future tense. Linguistics, grammar and thinking about language is fun, unlike actually learning one of the damned things.)

Musical instruments: in my youth, I could play half a dozen chords on a guitar and go chunka chunka chunka. Something always interfered at some point and I didn't play for awhile, resulting in yet again leaving blood on the frets. Finger pads need to be tough to play the guitar.

My husband gave me an electronic key board last Christmas and I bought a book, teach yourself. (My life would be much less complete without teach yourself books. I assume the library is the Alpha for any Omega.)

Pianos are good little creatures. Especially electronic keyboards, that do not require two men to move. One does not bleed on the keys. One does not have to tune the instrument. One sits, turns on and plays. The piano is a hell of a lot easier than the guitar. So this, too, counts as a non-surrendered goal. (I haven't given up on the bloody guitar but I am somewhat discouraged.)

Back to my children: both are much better musicians than I'll ever be; more native talent; more consistent application.

Evaluating my success in actually doing these things:  I think my children are probably better at some things because I wanted to do them. I didn't do them, but they did. Wealth will not cascade down the generations, but some skills have. It is very satisfying to see my children doing something better than I do.

My goals all involved learning things. I had assorted jobs from the time I was sixteen until I was sixty. I earned a sufficiency, not an excess. I never wanted to be rich. It would have been nice, but it had to be a by-product, not a goal. I never had any particular career path I wanted to climb. Instead, I did things I liked doing at the time. I'm definitely a grasshopper person rather than an ant.

There are two things I've consistently put in the time and work required to do well: writing and cooking. I intend to get better at both - and those I feel comfortable with saying:

"I shall be a better writer."

"I shall be a better cook."