138. ...grimacing for them...
(Morning thinking)
There was an irn bru advert years back where a grandmother on a mobility scooter terrorised a corner shop. It was funny because the idea of an old person having raucous fun and moving fast was at odds with how we felt the elderly should behave. Seen and not heard. Actually, ideally not even seen. Was she wearing a balaclava?
From where I’m sat right now I can see a pensioner on a mobility scooter. The machine itself is far removed from the clunky dodgem car sized brute ridden by the ram raiding Irn Bru fueled valkyrie. I reckon this one, on the promenade below my window, would fold away neatly and fit comfortably in the smaller of the blue Ikea bags. I don’t think modern miniaturisation could make it any more mini. Next step down is implants.
The guy, the pensioner, doesn’t look all that different from me. He’s probably 25 years older but he’s dressed similarly in a contemporary utilitarian workwear getup. He even has the large black framed specs. His wife and child and child’s spouse are gathered around mum’s phone intent on the screen. I think they’re consulting maps maybe they’re reading reviews, trying to make sense of the local options for breaking fast. They look like they’ve had an enjoyable morning promenading by the beach and now it’s time for a sit down.
Already sat down and so, perhaps, less in need of a calorie dunt the man on the mobility scooter is cutting neat donuts in the road. Spinning, spinning, like a gleeful dog chasing its tail, the joy on his face is magical.
Hold on though, something’s up with his mouth. I can’t be sure, because when he’s facing his family his back is to me, but I think he’s hiding the glee from them. I think maybe, as he loops round in his tight circles, toward and then away from his family, he’s grimacing for them and smiling for the rest of the world. Cheeky bugger.
There’s an idea that we might rebel and grow old disgracefully.
Disgracefully.
That seems to mean continuing to have fun right up until the end. As though, in older times our elders were expected to shush up and shuffle off unseen without making a scene.
Fuck that.
This is very much an unfinished thought. I ought to give it more time but I liked this old guy and I wanted to say so. I like the way the older people in my life, friends and family, are choosing to live.
Fuck that indeed Paul, I recently wrote about age limitations placed on us by ourselves, society and also our peers.
Here's some I've had this year:
You can't get another tattoo you're 50
You shouldn't be in that mens circle support group, that's aimed at younger men.
You want to do what Steve (I'll hide what that is for now as I plan to write about it)
Fuck all the above....we should do what we want and is Wayne Dyer said > Don't die with you music still in you. ❤️
There's a grumpy old git lives opposite me who makes everyone jump off the pavement with his mobility scooter Mr Toad antics, but without Mr Toad's raffish charm. He's a hateful oik. There's another one, an old rocker with a massive dyed red quiff, another 'broom, broom, get out of my way' type. The hate and bitterness radiates from his fat carcass. The actual disabled lady in an electric wheelchair rides on the road to avoid upset. These blokes manoeuvre their scooters like weapons. Once a c*** always one.