My generation didn't really think we were going to age. We firmly believed that either Time would pass over us like a hot iron, or that we would all prematurely fry in a nuclear war. One of these things is now definitely not going to happen. There is a massive, noisy youth culture, of which we are now not a part. Some of us have children,mostly as a result of not reading the instructions properly. Some even have grandchildren; and we learn shattering new things every day as a result of our exposure to them, and to other young people who swim into our ken. We learn words like "nang", and "bare", although of course we must NEVER use them.Previous generation had the luxury of being allowed to retire, both literally and figuratively, from the fray. My lot don't. Due to advances here, and progress there, we are now required to be productive economically, and as aesthetically pleasing as we can manage, for an extra decade or three. I was toying with the idea of becoming a Crone, the other day, as some of you may have read. But I don't think I am ready. I have developed a few prejudices, though. One is a firm belief that no-one under 40 can spell, and the other is that hardly anyone knows about manners. I do not think that young people are more deficient in natural grace than any other generation. Human beings are exactly the same as they have been since the Launch. But they haven't been taught. I used to teach in a lively "vibrant" area of London, and my students were often very large black boys with elaborate hair and unusual trousers. They would hail me cheerfully in Wood Green High Road, where they would hang, and I would shop. One day a group of them ran into me and my Mamma, when she was on one of her shopping trips to London. We didn't have a great many homeboys in Fazackerley, and I could see her looking slightly wary as this selection of loping lads approached, pushing each other and using inexplicable slang. Anyway, up they trotted and I made introductions. Gosh, I was proud of them. They all beamed at her, practically bowed, and then produced snippets of conversational small talk suitable for use at a Buckingham Palace garden party, albeit with less formal grammar. Not so much as an "F" word did we use, a wild departure from their general application of it as a verb, adjective and noun. Mum went away convinced that my moaning about their boisterousness and general ability to be trying was completely unfounded. "They were CHARMING", she enthused. And they were. Because they all had access to a grandmother, often of a redoutable nature. They knew what you did when you met an elderly lady . One point here is that this small incident gave my Mother a permanent and indelible impression that Tottenham's black male youth were generally a Good Thing, as a result of her sole encounter with one sample. However, she is still dubious about the Spanish, due to an incident with a handbag in Barcelona in 1981. Another is that knowing how to behave in particular situations with specific people is an essential life skill, and requires considerable input from parents, grandparents, and other elders. So I may spend my autumn years setting up a Charm School, instilling polite and considerate behaviour into Yahoos and Hoydens. I shall recruit a number of Barbadian grandmothers, and possibly Dame Maggie Smith.
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