I’m supposed to be getting ready for a meeting at 11.30. So, as that’s a bit dull, I’ll wing it then and blog now.
I was going to tell you about my bus ride from Liverpool Street to Islington the other day. Downstairs was full so I went up and sat at the back. The seats in front of me were taken up by four or five young men chatting to each other, all in the style that makes Ali G sound less like pastiche and more like direct and faithful observation. After a few minutes, I tuned in to their conversation, and it turned out they were all talking about school. Evidently studying for A levels, and quite earnestly discussing them. One is taking Philosophy. “Most of them are retaking, man, because it’s suppose to be like pretty tough, but I reckon I’m like wiring it, you know, man.” Which sounded good.
After a while, the subject turned to marriage. It seems that the parents of a couple of them were already at the negotiating stage of their futures. Whilst feeling a little unprepared as yet, they were all entirely receptive to agreeing to whatever is decided for them and obviously had a lot of respect and affection for their parents and weren’t embarrassed to have it known. It was all rather heartening and made me feel quite cheered.