Subject: pipe the admiral on board
From: Scottie Bowman (rbowman@indigo.ie)
Date: Sat Jul 21 2001 - 02:40:22 GMT
Matthew, I want to add my warmest welcome to that
of Will’s.
Though I must admit my feelings are slightly ambivalent.
Up to now, at 72, I’ve been able to trade on what I assumed
was my position as the oldest inhabitant in the village.
At that age, you can get away with murder - be rude
to everybody, make disgusting passes at girls like Valérie,
forget to shave, quote freely from an increasingly faulty memory...
You’re forgiven everything. ‘Don’t mind him,’ they say, ‘he’s
losing his marbles. His heart’s in the right place. Used to be
quite bright.’
(Come on. Isn’t that what you all say? Reassure me.)
But now when a smooth-talking eighty year old comes along
I have to get back into my short pants, wash my face &
start doing my homework again. No, all the same, on mature
consideration, you’re very welcome indeed. Let’s show these
children how a man writes. And drop all this rubbish about
‘retired writer’. As Hemingway (one ‘m’, Matthew) remarked,
you hire out to this trade until you die.
And while we’re on the subject, Val, that’s a pretty rotten &
generalised judgement you've just passed on the male sex. Because
I stagger along gripping the cane with my knobbly hand &
peer at you through a pair of rheumy eyes, am I to be dismissed
at once as a member of the dirty raincoat brigade?
Did it never occur to you that ancient joshers like Matthew
& me might be smiling simply with delight at the sight of
a glossy curl bouncing against a pretty face & the memory
of former happinesses?
Scottie B.
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This archive was generated by hypermail 2b25 : Mon Sep 10 2001 - 15:29:39 GMT