I should probably give this entry some thought and come up with something insightful and witty. Instead its motivation is rather more poignant.
Today I considered a job applicant who was born in 1984. That’s the year I finished high school. More recently I appointed a cadet journalist who was born in 1990. I didn’t realise she wasn’t 18 years old until our HR department told me we needed a parent’s signature on some paperwork.
Tonight the Brisbane Lions are thumping St Kilda. Although Brisbane has little resemblance to Fitzroy, I tend to reflect on the original Lions on such occasions. Fitzroy played their final game in 1996, the year my son Michael was born. That seems a terribly long time ago.
If I wanted to think of more general remarks to address the topic I might add, you know you are getting old when:
- Shop assistants call you sir;
- Your three-year-old knows more about how to work the DVD player than you do;
- Nobody understands when you talk about feet and inches, stone and pounds;
- You’re the devil incarnate if you criticise dress standards at a function (I know this feeling);
- A Sunday afternoon nap is just the tonic.
ahhhhhh Michael. You’ll find, sooner or later, that you need to add something in there about forgetting. One does.
Twitter: mgorey
says:
Damn it. I forgot that one!
I feel old when I think of how long it’s been since StKilda won their first & only premiership. It was 1966 – and I was there! (I notice you couldn’t help mentioning how last night’s game went!)