.
Yes (or yeah), out of what I originally wrote -- "[we] are both older
British men (or blokes)" -- it's a tough choice nowadays to know which is
more repulsive: the pomposity of "older British men", or the faux-demotic
of the "older bloke". Given that this was a little in-country class joke,
I thought our Swedish correspondent caught and returned it in admirable
courtly style.
[Place the cartoon here: Park bench. Two elderly blokes in reversed tartan
baseball caps. One is picking his nose. The other asks, "Eh, wos the
gallant thing to do now?"]
[Out-of-country joke: Okay SB, gallantry won't extend to fighting over who
gets to cut up your dinner!]
But the ID crisis could be worse. One of my younger off-list correspondents
has made me understand that I've now entered Stupid Old Farthood... and
even calls me "middle class". (I believe this is meant to be an insult, or
an accusation. Of what, I'm not quite sure. Does anybody know a cure for
it?)
Williams-Findlay and I are hardly old pals - we've never met, and if we
ever did, I think we would disagree on many things - with reasonable
civility. It's probably an age thing. The natural inclination, i.e. to
beat the other guy to a pulp, slowly gives way to the realisation that if
you do that, there'll be one less person whose turn (or shout) it is to buy
the next round of wee drams. W-F bears the marks of ageing intellect: he
has strong views and advances them vigorously; he argues rationally, uses
credible real-life experience, and knows that someone else might have had
different experience, or come to different conclusions. What more could one
ask of a sparring partner at the coffee-shop (or cafe, as the blokes used
to call it)?
m99m
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