was a cheery boy; he and I seemed to hit it off.
On the whole I thought it better to skip a generation and make my peace with my children’s children. Christine and I found it too disagreeable for discussion. She lacked patience. In earlier times it was the root cause of our problems. Now she refused to discuss the situation which was ironic, given that the problems themselves had disappeared. Through age I imagine. Nevertheless, it was an unpleasant situation. Occasionally I yearned for earlier times, older times, when she and I fought like cat and dog, but later came together, as lovers often do. Nowadays her impatience overwhelmed me. Always it was directed against myself. Why was that? This morning I had seen the advertisement in the morning newspaper but when I read it out she would not listen. She refused to discuss ‘the matter’.
I replied, It is not ‘a matter’ it is a bicycle. I wish to acquire a bicycle for our grandson. What is wrong in that? Is there something wrong in that?
No.
Well then?
I refuse to discuss it with you.
On second thoughts thank God, thank God. It was heartfelt! I had nothing to discuss with her. The relationship between myself and my son-in-law was not a subject for discussion.
Anyway, I would not describe it as a relationship. Arrogant bugger. Astonishing, that he could have considered himself the equal
The bicycle cut into my shoulder. Perhaps it was not a good bicycle. Good ones were lightweight. Or used to be. Nowadays – well, nowadays. Statements that begin in such fashion denote age, and anti-social odours.
The atmosphere in the garden seemed to have altered. It was almost peculiar. Certainly it was chilly. Once again I had been fooled by weather forecasters. I was wearing only a tee-shirt, a thin tee-shirt at that. Of course all tee-shirts are thin. I was not foolish. Elderly yes foolish no, at least not by nature. Nor by inclination, through the nurturing process, part and parcel of ageing.
It is true that I was a grandfather and this bicycle had been purchased for my grandson, a boy that I liked. I could imagine a grandson whom I did not like. I had two granddaughters also, by my son. Of course I liked them. Obviously I loved them. But in like fashion? Perhaps, given that we saw them so rarely. Difficult terrain altogether, gender and one’s response. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Perhaps, but proximity and habit bring greater rewards.
It was entirely possible, in fact probable, that my grandson would not want the bike. He held his own opinions, personal opinions. He was seven years of age but most independent. In this day and age such sensibility was crucial not simply for personal but for social development. The key to survival lay in communality. The present generation of adults neglected this.
Salutary, that my granddaughters would not have wanted the bicycle, had they been here to receive it. Nothing I acquired for them was treated seriously. They allowed me to tickle them and give them money. I occupied that typical elderly-male role; the ridiculous figure of fun, undiagnosed victim to early dementia. I only suffered the deteriorating condition: the rest of the family were its victims. Oh God.
But I needed to pause a moment. The damn bike. A certain discomfort, a certain – pain, I was experiencing pain, effected by the cycle frame, the crossbar itself, it seemed so heavy, or awkward somehow because how could it be so heavy, not so heavy. That was the stuff of delusion. Surely?
The path along towards the foot of the garden was steep, it became so. I had failed to notice this, that it was happening, that such a thing might conceivably happen at all. Until suddenly, suddenly. The unpredictable. What is ‘the unpredictable’? Can God move in unpredictable ways? Are the limits of thought bound by man’s own being? Could I be held responsible? Might I be considered
Nor had I noticed on the way up. I had not noticed on the way up! Oh well. My head was
On the whole I thought it better to skip a generation and make my peace with my children’s children. Christine and I found it too disagreeable for discussion. She lacked patience. In earlier times it was the root cause of our problems. Now she refused to discuss the situation which was ironic, given that the problems themselves had disappeared. Through age I imagine. Nevertheless, it was an unpleasant situation. Occasionally I yearned for earlier times, older times, when she and I fought like cat and dog, but later came together, as lovers often do. Nowadays her impatience overwhelmed me. Always it was directed against myself. Why was that? This morning I had seen the advertisement in the morning newspaper but when I read it out she would not listen. She refused to discuss ‘the matter’.
I replied, It is not ‘a matter’ it is a bicycle. I wish to acquire a bicycle for our grandson. What is wrong in that? Is there something wrong in that?
No.
Well then?
I refuse to discuss it with you.
On second thoughts thank God, thank God. It was heartfelt! I had nothing to discuss with her. The relationship between myself and my son-in-law was not a subject for discussion.
Anyway, I would not describe it as a relationship. Arrogant bugger. Astonishing, that he could have considered himself the equal
The bicycle cut into my shoulder. Perhaps it was not a good bicycle. Good ones were lightweight. Or used to be. Nowadays – well, nowadays. Statements that begin in such fashion denote age, and anti-social odours.
The atmosphere in the garden seemed to have altered. It was almost peculiar. Certainly it was chilly. Once again I had been fooled by weather forecasters. I was wearing only a tee-shirt, a thin tee-shirt at that. Of course all tee-shirts are thin. I was not foolish. Elderly yes foolish no, at least not by nature. Nor by inclination, through the nurturing process, part and parcel of ageing.
It is true that I was a grandfather and this bicycle had been purchased for my grandson, a boy that I liked. I could imagine a grandson whom I did not like. I had two granddaughters also, by my son. Of course I liked them. Obviously I loved them. But in like fashion? Perhaps, given that we saw them so rarely. Difficult terrain altogether, gender and one’s response. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Perhaps, but proximity and habit bring greater rewards.
It was entirely possible, in fact probable, that my grandson would not want the bike. He held his own opinions, personal opinions. He was seven years of age but most independent. In this day and age such sensibility was crucial not simply for personal but for social development. The key to survival lay in communality. The present generation of adults neglected this.
Salutary, that my granddaughters would not have wanted the bicycle, had they been here to receive it. Nothing I acquired for them was treated seriously. They allowed me to tickle them and give them money. I occupied that typical elderly-male role; the ridiculous figure of fun, undiagnosed victim to early dementia. I only suffered the deteriorating condition: the rest of the family were its victims. Oh God.
But I needed to pause a moment. The damn bike. A certain discomfort, a certain – pain, I was experiencing pain, effected by the cycle frame, the crossbar itself, it seemed so heavy, or awkward somehow because how could it be so heavy, not so heavy. That was the stuff of delusion. Surely?
The path along towards the foot of the garden was steep, it became so. I had failed to notice this, that it was happening, that such a thing might conceivably happen at all. Until suddenly, suddenly. The unpredictable. What is ‘the unpredictable’? Can God move in unpredictable ways? Are the limits of thought bound by man’s own being? Could I be held responsible? Might I be considered
Nor had I noticed on the way up. I had not noticed on the way up! Oh well. My head was