Retire

(My conversation with L continued.)

"Don't be upset. By the way, I note that you read that last page for several minutes. What's that?" L tried to change the topic.

"I was lost in my own thoughts," I explained, "It's the obituary of GC - Oh, no. Sorry. It's the notice of his retirement."

"I call that Freudian slip of tongue," my friend smiled.

"Don't go that far," I tried to silence him, "But, I agree, he doesn't want the story to end like this."

"Who does! The old sayings is old teachers never die, they just lose their class. Nowadays, old professors are often quite immortal and keep hanging around; when the time has come for them to give up their chair, they become directors of an institute or adjuncts of a centre or what not." L pointed out.

"That's why a simple notice of retirement is such a rare happening in our staff newsletter." I was forced to agree.

"Nevertheless it happens this time. You know, from a grammatical point of view, retire is a verb," my friend went on to explain, "It could be used in both active and passive voice."