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The students of Woolacombe were having their prom tonight in the ballroom of the hotel where we were having dinner. And as much as I disapprove of this American phenomenon having found its way over to our shores, it was cute seeing these West Country teenagers all dressed up in the evening sunshine. I wonder which of them ended up with a bucket of blood tipped over them. This is my understanding of what happens at these things.
As usual I was left wondering how it is that I am 52 years old and it’s 34 years since I left school. My shadow still looks young, but if I am unfortunate to catch sight of myself in a mirror or window, it does not match my expectations. Why did I take that pact with the devil to always have a teenage shadow? I hardly ever notice it. I remember the devil seeming a bit surprised by my choice and saying, “Are you sure it’s your shadow that you want to be eternally young?†But I didn’t get the hint.
The joke’s on him because my soul was already broken when he got it.
It goes fast though teenagers having your proms (who I am sure are all reading this). Those sunny summer nights larking around with your pals soon fade away and become shadows.
I wouldn’t go back. But I’d just like some of those 34 years back. Because there’s no way I got to live through all of them. Someone sucked out some of those years like an experimental doctor sucking out a hypothalamus.
But in 34 years time I’ll be sitting in a hotel watching some 52 year olds having their prom and realise I’ve squandered another three and a half decades.
It was the last full day of the holiday for us and my in-laws were back, so we got the middle part of the morning off, after I’d taken my son on a long walk to the beach and back. He was keen to get in the little stream that runs down to the sea, but was still in his sleep suit and I knew that he wouldn’t enjoy being wet for the long trudge home.
But he didn’t forget about it. In the afternoon we went on a walk together from the swimming pool and he made for the beach. “We’re not going there,†I told him (my shoes were back beside the sun lounger). But then I thought, oh, why not? And he led me down to the little stream and got on with the work that he’d been thinking about all day. He lifted stones out of the water and placed them along the sandy bank. And occasionally took some sand and threw it into the water. I have never told him of my stone clearing work and I doubt he’d understand it if I tried. But here he was, instinctively continuing my work. The future is safe.
We had some problems with Feedburner which I don’t understand, but we’re working on, so a few podcasts have disappeared from the audio feed and the latest is not up yet. But hopefully it will be soon.
