Time flies for Monk as he remembers in the disjointed manner of an age-muddled mind his highs and lows, his loves and fights as the present interrupts the past – or vice versa. The loneliness is palpable at his birthday accompanied only by ghosts and he now plants and gardens to have the living in his life and to make up for his single regret. Failing bodily functions are viewed with curiosity and, almost in the same breath, fury. Similarly, guests are welcomed as a break from monotony and shunned for the same reason. Finally, we see old age as the greatest of levellers
no man or woman, no matter how well travelled, rich or intelligent can escape its indignities, but Monk´s lust for life (and women and booze and food and books) make this a positive look at the only definite in life.