Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Proof. . .

I’m old. I discovered it today. I’ve suspected it for some time, but today I was provided definitive proof. It’s not because my knees creak as much as Paris Hilton’s bed springs. It’s not because I am working on a Bonnie Raitt, Susan Sontag streak of grey. It’s not because I actually have Gregorian Monks chanting on my iPod. I’m old because today, I tut-tutted a young girl on the street. I had to return my videos so I got off the tube at Clapham South and along the high street there were three kids, I’m guessing twelve – thirteen years old. One was on a bike and he kept popping wheelies the way twelve-year-old boys do. His breaks had more squeak than stop. His friends, two girls, were walking along side him. One of the girls had Icelandic white blond hair and violent blue eyes and was at least a year away from filling out her training bra. She was holding a bag of crisps (potato chips) sprinkling them along the street. At one point she looked back at me, grabbed another handful of potato and Hanseled and Gretled it along the high street. When the bag was empty she stuck it into the metal wire cage around a tree. I couldn’t help myself. I called out to her, “Is that a trash can?” She turned. “Wah?” I think my saying trashcan is what got her attention. “Is that a trashcan?” I fished the bag out from the wire and handed it to her. “Go toss it in the rubbish bin.” She turned away from me, toward the rubbish bin, but she had to get a last word. She ripped the bag in half, let one bit flutter onto the street putting the twin into the bin. I have to say, I was rather impressed. As non-verbal improv fuck you’s go, it was nice. Well done little slapper on the dole in training. Well done. When she turned down her street, she turned around and looked at me, her eyes narrowed. I narrowed mine back. I was thinking, “Little bitch.” She was thinking, “Fat cow.” So yes. I am old. Any day I will start screaming, “In my day, we walked to school in our polyester bell bottoms tying yellow ribbons round the old oak tree!” Sigh.

8 Comments:

At 4/19/2006 05:51:00 AM, Blogger Expat Traveler said...

that was funny!

 
At 4/19/2006 05:54:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

LOL
Mom

 
At 4/19/2006 08:21:00 AM, Blogger Stu. said...

To be honest dear readers this isn't the first time the universe has given Thomas the heads-up she's getting on a bit.

a> She's 'refused' help to cross roads in central London. The key word being refused, as in someone thought she needed help.

b> My personal favorite, she can no-longer walk on Cobbles. Which is bad when you live in an old city like Londinium. I've seen firewalkers with more sense of balance..

nuff said.

 
At 4/19/2006 01:22:00 PM, Blogger Kieran said...

Excellent post.
Depressing for me though, since I have gregorian monks not an ipod, but on an actual cassette tape walkman.

 
At 4/19/2006 02:39:00 PM, Blogger Stu. said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

 
At 4/19/2006 02:55:00 PM, Blogger Scott E D said...

Stop it. You aren’t old until you have to steady yourself on your cane while you shake an angry fist at those children.

And the Gregorian chants thing doesn’t make you old it makes you weird.

 
At 4/19/2006 07:35:00 PM, Blogger melusina said...

Bah.

I am certain that the teenagers of our generation (ie. us) were as rude and disrespectful as teenagers are today.

 
At 4/20/2006 08:39:00 AM, Blogger Nicole said...

I agree- That's why I feel so silly about it. . .

 

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