Getting Old

I have been getting old for quite some years now. Many years, one could say. I have been getting old for many years. If I actually were old, I would have started this article by proclaiming my age to the world; “I’m one hundred and seventy two…”. Better yet, I could have started by stating a given activity, and how long I have been doing it. “I’m seven hundred and I’ve been using the Internet for fifty two years now”, would do nicely. I don’t know if such a statement would automatically add merit to whatever precedes it, a tone, an authority, to distance myself from you, the younger, less learned reader, who would then look up to me as a father figure, hanging on my every word. Is there a cut off for when people should start using such phrases? A day you wish to begin announcing the tenure of your relationship with a particular product, activity or service? To add authority to your otherwise feeble or unquantifiable argument perhaps?

Whatever topic is being discussed, and no matter how long ago we are reminiscing about, here seem to be two striking universal truths about the past. The first is that it was much better. Most goods and services could be purchased for a penny. A bus journey, a book of stamps, a night in a seaside hotel, a loaf of bread, a two bed terrace house, a Roman-Catholic Cathedral? Whatever. It would always a penny, not the extortionate amount it does today. I imagine all shops were one penny shops, like pound shops, but 100 times better, where all the items would be carefully weighed by a surly shop keeper, but it wouldn’t matter as they would all end up costing 1p each anyway. Life was also better in terms of: service, quality, friendship, durability, intellect, safety, life fulfilment, green space, packaging, education, products being made domestically – yes, every measurable element of life is immeasurably superior. However, the second universal truth about the ‘old days’ is that although it was better, it was also much, much harder. One would work the day in the mine, then go fight a war, collect a rationed cup of tea from 30 yards away, ride a mule home, self educate one’s children, all before having a small offal sandwich and blowing out the gas lamp. All the while one would have to manually move the hands of the clock around to the accurate time with a wrench. As clocks have yet to be invented.

So there we have it. Life was better, as nothing has been invented, yet harder, as everything is yet to be invented. If there was a negative element to the past, it would never be ‘worse’, that would be admitting defeat. Having no food was no ‘worse’ than these days of plenty. It was ‘harder’. It would never have been easier in the past either. Not having to learn the many complexities of a computer was not easier. It was better, because you could spend time working out everything yourself. Thus they came out of it as better people.

I’m being cruel to old people. We are just as bad. As soon as possible we all start to reminisce. Remember the Spice Girls? Much better than today’s muck. Remember when computers had 12mhz, 1mb of ram and a no hard drive? We had it so hard waiting for the to load. Eee, the 1st Gen iPod. What about Starburst? It used to be called Opal Fruits, don’t you know? Rainbow, now that was quality children’s TV. Not like now. There wasn’t a Starbucks here last week. I DON’T CARE. Why must humans insist on talking about the past? Its because its by far the easiest thing to talk about. It requires no analytical skills, no learned knowledge, and no understanding. Face it, its far easier to talk about what sweets we used to like than how to deconceptualise French art house cinema. People don’t even need to be right, so long as it seems plausible. I suppose that’s why to announce your age before you state something. To give you authority before you spew a load of spurious guff about how much better and harder it was in the past.