As pointed out on Saturday, I spent the weekend in Scotland attempting to celebrate the birthday of the baby sister, for she be old now. And thusly no longer deserving of the moniker ‘baby sister’, but it annoys her slightly and must therefore remain in use.
This is what brothers are for, people: providing low grade annoyance to all siblings. Or so I’ve been told, anyway.
But I digress. One of the topics of discussion was freshers, because said group of people were represented at the proceedings. And there was a horrible realisation on my part.
I’ve slowly come to terms with the concept of people born in 1989 being able to drink; I’ve become accustomed to the idea of people from that year going to university (hell, I’m even related to some of them). But I’d forgotten that the Scots do things a little differently, and let people go to uni at 17.
Meaning that the majority of the freshers were 17, and a significant number of them were born in 1990.
So, from here on, it will not just be a case of uni folk not remembering the 80s (as was my excuse); they’ll not even have lived through any of them. The decade that started on a high point1 is now just another time that The Kids never knew.
By fuck, that makes me old. What a horrible concept.
1 – me, obviously.
Wise a bap. Kid.
I feel your pain.
It’s like, in your head, you still belong to that world. Then at moments like this you realise it’s all over, and you’re one of the ones tutting in annoyance about the ‘music’ the ‘kids’ are listening to.
People in their twenties should probably not be feeling like this.
It’s all about perspective. The older you get the more ‘younger’ people there are and the less you care.
Hails, that is exactly the problem. I’m now at the point where the actions of the Kids perplex me, as does their choice in music. So all I have to look forward to is the point where they have to respect me because I’m old.
Nelly, I’m touched by your sympathy. Genuinely touched.
It’s shite. And I’m a “mature student”. *shudder*