(For all the years I’ve known him, he’s never been short of something to say. But what he says can often be interesting. We were taking a rest during a countryside stroll, near a fairly run-down stable.)
“It’s tired and worn out but just about still in use. A bit like me.
“Don’t think I’d be any good for spares though, either.
“You know, now I’m a knackered old codger, I sometimes think getting old is looked on a bit better now. Better than it used to be.
“Maybe people are understanding there might be something special, something valuable, wrapped up with being old.
“Perhaps it’s ‘cause getting old emphasises individuality a bit better. We’re not so easy to package. I think old ‘uns like me are maybe a bit different – not so bland.
“Oh, I don’t know.
“Talking of what I don’t know. I’m sitting here looking at that black through the next door. I can’t work out what’s there at all. And I quite like that. A bit of mystery.”
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