Neighbour asked if I'd "found my purpose yet" in retirement. Felt like being asked if I'd located the meaning of existence between Tesco runs. I've spent forty years at sea, fifteen in emergency services, and now apparently need a purpose beyond not dying and keeping the recycling sorted? The purpose industry is relentless. Every article's about finding your calling. Your passion. Your ikigai. What if my calling is drinking tea and not being on fire? That's purpose enough. The generation before me retired to gardens and died peacefully. We're expected to become Instagram poets or artisan cheesemakers. Sometimes the purpose is just surviving modern life without committing arson. Low bar. Achievable. Mine.