Of the dozen or so boats moored along the canal in Vicarstown, maybe five are seaworthy. The rest appear neglected, rusted, mouldy, in need of maintenance. Lautrec, while still serviceable, looks the worse for wear; in the arc of its namesake’s tragic life, the diminutive vessel is less Moulin Rouge, more sanatorium. Wet Pleasure and Solace are partially submerged, windows smashed, brown water sloshing, cockpit to helm. A party boat may’ve seemed a good idea one summer day years ago, like that pair of vertiginous Gianmarco Lorenzi thigh-high boots bought during a sexy mid-winter trip to Rome after two Negronis enjoyed outside at Canova Piazza del Popolo, but now it’s just one more thing to Marie Kondo.

In cities, the rhythm of days is punctuated by traffic: subways, buses, cars, commuters. Changing seasons are marked by outerwear: a New Yorker’s winter coat is one’s shrewdest, costliest purchase, while in Rome, the unmistakable sign that spring has sprung is determined by the hive mind of la donna romana, the collective moment she decides to peel off tights and go bare-legged through the cobbled vias. In the rural midlands, we await the swoop and flutter of returning Irish swallows, or fáinleog, after wintering in Africa. Tiny birds (a pair of swallows could fit in the palm of your hand) with glossy cobalt-blue plumage, reddish throats, pale bellies and long, deeply forked streaming tails mass into sweeps to make the epic 10,000km journey across deserts and seas, flying 200 miles a day, feeding on the wing, skimming low over water to drink, to reach their summer homes in Ireland, often returning to the same nesting sites year after year. Scientists attribute swallows’ navigational skill to magnetoreception, the ability to detect a magnetic field and orient themselves to it, alongside the presence of magnetite, a magnetic mineral found in the beaks of many migrating birds, acting as a compass. Yet it is the valiance of the swallow we marvel at; swallow tattoos often feature an outsized heart, a nod to its bravery.

In Another Country: Navigating the Emotional Terrain of Our Elders, Mary Pipher has drafted “a field guide to rough terrain for a generation who find themselves unprepared to care for those who have always cared for them.” During my mother’s last weeks, she asked me to remind her what happened from the time she was 50 until now, as she struggled to string together a timeline of names, dates, relationships. I fill in blanks: your daughter Susie. Not your husband Bob, Debbie’s husband Bob. You lived in New Jersey … “The landscape of age is that of Another Country. We must all learn to speak its language.” Pipher explains. I made the transatlantic trip to visit her in her assisted-living penthouse more frequently as she rusted up, moored to her recliner. Dependent on a rotation of kind carers, immigrants from the islands of Jamaica, Bermuda, the Dominican Republic, each of us familiar with long haul travel, my “sisters from another mister” were equally charmed by and frustrated with my difficult mother. Forced to navigate mounting loss – loss of mobility, cognitive ability, independence, friends, bladder, bowel, balance, hearing, hair, heart, my mother’s long haul was less a heroic migration characterised by resilience, more a bumping up against a canal bank, taking on dark waters, sinking.

In “Late Fragment” Raymond Carver poses the ultimate question: “And, did you get what you wanted from this life, even so?” Pipher recognises acceptance as “the last great gift of old age”. I yearned for my mother to be able to say “I did … to feel myself beloved on this earth.”

This month’s Moodboard

1. I’M ROAD TRIPPING in Hogan SS20 sneakers.
2. I’M VENTURING into the unknown in fringed khaki green Hogan SS20 hi-tops.
3. I’M AWAITING the return of Irish Swallows in Ella Green’s “Swallows Lariat”, at DesignYard, 25 South Frederick Street, D2.
4. I’M LOOKING fly in a retro Belstaff menswear leather aviator jumpsuit, inspired by Amelia Earhart’s solo transatlantic flight.
5. I’M LEARNING the language of ageing in Another Country. www.abebooks.co.uk
6. I’M REDUCING my carbon footprint by staying home with a well-equipped restored aircraft trolley from www.bordbar.de.
7. I’M LOOKING at the world through rosecoloured Checkmate sunglasses by www.karenwalker. com.
8. I’M APPLYING Dermalogica Invisible sunscreen, even under Tupperware skies.