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| RTomens, 2022 |
But I do need to wear glasses, for reading anyway. And I feel old when I peer over them at a customer from behind the counter in the shop. I recall a bloke at Work who did the same thing, before I had to wear glasses. I never imagined I'd be doing the same thing. In his spare time he did an act impersonating Tom Jones. I shall never do that, at least.
We get forgetful. Somehow, we get more stupid. Today I had to count the months on my fingers to ascertain whether September was the eighth or ninth month. Whilst doing so a girl wanted serving so I just asked her. Despite being half my age it took her a while to work it out too.
Yesterday a man who runs another bookshop came in and, as usual, we joked about football and bookselling. On his way out he spotted Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race on the sale table and snapped it up for his shop. We both agreed that it was the kind of garbage that would sell in his place. So he paid me and I went back in the shop. Going outside again a few minutes later I saw that he had left it behind. He's older and possibly even more forgetful than me, obviously.
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