I recently had a birthday and the two brats came down from their respective universities to celebrate.
Well, that was the stated reason; I suspect the real reason was a much-needed slap-up meal and a few free pints, while giving me a present I had paid for myself. But I may be wrong.
Also the next day was Mother’s Day – it’s on a different date to South Africa here in the UK – so the brats could kill two birds with one visit.
Anyway, the best present was having them both down at the same time, something increasingly rare these days with their schedules, so it was a jewel of a day.
Management was almost speechless with excitement for the whole week; an unusual event as speechless is not a word in her vocab.
On the night of the big day we got chatting at the restaurant and I asked them one question as a nod to my impending dotage – what is it about us that makes them think we are old? Even though we are the most hip parents ‘evah’, I added hopefully.
Both considered this for a while, since when you think that 30 is Jurassic, to mull over antiquity with someone more than twice that age is almost inconceivable.
I expected answers like my beard is going greyer on a daily basis, I like to spend more time outdoors (one thing my kids have never shared with me) or the odd memory lapse.
But no; the one opined that the thing he found really ‘old’ was how I put all the knives and forks in different compartments in the dishwasher. That was really naff.
The other said it was how I always liked to leave early for events. When I used to drive them to cricket matches we would always arrive half an hour before anyone else.
Or when we have a plane to catch, I’m always at the airport way before check in time. That too was, like, being a bit of a dinosaur.
At first I was offended. I don’t do naff things I protested, until I realised that protesting that you don’t do naff things is doing exactly that.
Old equals practical
Then it dawned that what they considered old, was to me just being practical. I hate doing the washing up, even though in this day and age it just means loading the dishwasher.
But loading the dishwasher also means unloading it, and if you just grab a handful of forks in one fist and throw them into the cutlery drawer because they are all together is actually, in my opinion, far less naff than having to have to sift through all the stuff individually.
And as for always arriving early at cricket matches … well, most of the venues were in different towns so we had first to find them.
Also, for 12 years I had driven to work on the M25, London’s busiest motorway (or car park as most drivers refer to it) and so traffic jams were part of my life.
The one thing every driver in England knows is that it’s not the distance of the journey; it’s the density of traffic. You have to factor that in or else you’ll be perpetually late. And the one time we were late for a game they were on the verge of panic – something they had conveniently forgotten.
Also, the fact that I am always early at airports is not necessarily being a geriatric wuss; it’s rather having the time to quaff a couple of leisurely brewskis before boarding, which I always find quite pleasant. That is anything but naff, in my humble opinion. In fact, it’s quite cool.
So the basic difference between us is youthful impetuosity versus … ahem, ‘mature’ pragmatism – and that may be the key difference in youth and age.
But I suppose I should be grateful. Neither of them once mentioned that I was in fact just a grumpy old git.
Now that may be the real dinosaur in the room.
