They are a pair of kids, and they make a very pretty couple: both highly literate (in my scheme of things), the boy exuberant in his passion for jaw-droppingly expensive bicycles (some weighing, he tells me, no more than 700 grams) and computer what-nottery; the girl heart-stoppingly lovely, also a committed biker like him. Unlike most others of their age, they have ( at least to my eyes) a refreshing innocence, almost dangerous in these terrible times: and there is none of the street-smart hard edge which puts people like me off. I first met them at my usual Sunday bookshop about a year ago I think; since then we’ve run into each other a few times (I wrote and posted a status or Note about them after my first encounter). Both have enrolled at a first rate institute here, on their way to their PhDs. Yesterday they sent me a message asking me to join them for breakfast this morning, and I did. They were apologetic about not joining me in the Sunday Blossom browse, as they were on a house hunting expedition; but they gave me generously of their time. I have grown very fond of them, they’re like my own children. It’s relaxing to see their youth, their laughter, their joie de vivre: except that I am hopelessly out of their generational bracket. I am surprised (pleasantly of course, naturally) that they (quite unaccountably) seek my company: but puzzled too. What WOULD they want with an old man, when the greener attractions of life are all theirs? But I’m vain enough to believe that they pay me a compliment by adopting me. Somewhere I think I must be doing something right, at least where these kids are concerned. I hope I deserve the compliment. There’s no greater mortification than being relegated to the shelf as a frightful old bore: I hope I avoid that fate. *** JJ. 27/7/14
Posted on: Sun, 27 Jul 2014 12:56:05 +0000
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