Long time readers will know of my fascination with the ageing process. I long for the years when I feel its appropriate to wear a fleece bedecked with an image of a wolf, or wolves. Possibly howling at the moon. Maybe with some Native American symbolism in there for good measure.
I mean who doesn’t love a fleece with a dreamcatcher on it?
But I’m also excited to know what age I’ll need to be, legally or whatever, to just start stopping in shop doorways.
Obviously there are two forms of this – the plain stop, and the stop ‘n’ chat.
It’s unlikely I’ll do the stop ‘n’ chat. After all, I don’t like people so do my best to keep them as far away as possible. I don’t think I’ll be in a position to know anyone in a shop doorway.
For me, then, we’re looking at the plain stop. Just coming to an abrupt halt, no indication that an end to forward motion is on the cards. And for no discernable reason other than to move something slightly. Something that could, feasibly, have been moved while moving.
Yesterday I went to Sainsbury’s for some bog roll for work because I am a nice guy and no-one else had been to get some. As I entered the store I nearly walked straight into an old lady who just stopped.
And not momentarily.
She stopped long enough for me to a) mutter b) wait for her to move c) mutter some more and d) move around to the other entryway (as governed by those security whoop-whoop thingies).
I saw her later in the store tearing round like a mad woman. Apparently its just doorways she had a problem with.
Sometimes, you can kind of see what Thanos was thinking…