I was going to start blogging in the conventional way – introducing myself that is – but I’m pretty lame at those (as I am at these) so anyway I guess you’ll have to get to know me through my writing. Here goes:
Yesterday, I was on the bus back from the city centre at a pretty peak time of day. The only two available seats were near the front of the bus, next to an old man, and yet no-one seemed to want to sit there. Looking at the man, I myself felt slightly afraid but I didn’t quite know why.
I guess I should explain; when I say old, I mean that he was in his late eighties, if not older. His face bore the signs of his age – lined and sunken he wore the sage expression of someone who had seen it all before. To me he somewhat resembled one of those old tribesmen – grey haired and bearded but still commanding respect – still exuding some intangible sense of power that perhaps elicited my fear.
The man sat and stared, expressionless, out of the window and in turn I sat and gazed (inconspicuously) at him. Why was I afraid of him? Why did no-one want to sit next to him? A thought finally occurred to me. The old man, with all his marks of age, represented to us our future. He was the inevitable; the reminder that youth and life are both fleeting things and that in the end we’re all headed in the same direction; those knowing eyes trapped inside a ravaged frame. No-one wanted to acknowledge this, no-one wanted to think about what happens when we grow old, no-one wanted to think they won’t be this way forever and so everyone kept their distance – as if old age is an infirmity that one of us might catch.
Thinking of this led me to reflect on the fleeting nature, not just of life, but of all things that are associated with it. I thought of the age-old cliché, all things must come to an end, and on that afternoon, sitting in that bus, nothing seemed more fitting.
I had been in the city centre on work experience which had – that day – come to an end. It was great and something that helped me have more confidence in the fact that maybe I do have what it takes to be a journalist in the future but despite its awesomeness I did, inevitably, have to leave there. During that work experience I had done some research on a local library that was closing down in my area. The library was in a grade 2 listed Georgian Mansion and despite its worn charm and historical integrity it had, last year, been shut down. Next month it’s up for auction and it will, undoubtedly, go to the first bidder with a wad of cash and planning permission to turn it into ‘luxury apartments’ or something of the sort.
This to me seems symbolic of the nature of our lives. The years in which we’re still sprite and maintain ‘good shape’ pass by in the blink of an eye – it seems that everyone’s around us, we’re useful and popular and then suddenly – we’re not. We get older and, naturally, fall slightly into disrepair. Inwardly, we’re wiser, we’ve seen the world and store vast amounts of experience and knowledge but outwardly we’re starting to wear a bit. It’s no longer comforting to look at us – we’re a sign of what’s to come and so we’re written off, left alone – in the case of the library, auctioned off and ‘renovated’.
This is life and it happens to all of us. All that’s up for us to decide is what we do with the time we have before it gets too late to do it.
I suppose that’s why I’m posting this. My new year’s resolution was to start a new blog but I didn’t quite get round to it. Now I’m thinking; better late than never (as is this post which was supposed to be up on Saturday).
