Sunday, October 08, 2006

So scared of growing old, I'm only good at being young


I’m not sure how it works but for some reason, as I grow older, my father seems to be getting younger. We were out shopping for trousers the other evening when the salesman innocently asked my father if I was his younger brother. When told that, no, I was actually a son, the salesman thought I was kidding. Of course, Abbu was delighted – who wouldn’t be? – and of course I knew it was all an act to make us buy more pant but the remark didn’t exactly warm the cockles of my heart. In fact, the delicious chocolate-colored beauties in front of me instantly took on the color of stale coffee grounds. Who wants to buy a pair of trousers that look like they’ve been percolating for weeks in a fisherman’s boot?

2 Comments:

Blogger I Hate Housework said...

It happens to all of us, the older we get, the younger our parents are. 50 is no longer old to me; it used to be ancient.

10:25 AM  
Blogger karrvakarela said...

I hate housework: you're right. I suppose it's all a matter of perspective. Neat name, by the way.

4:39 PM  

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