A disturbing thing happened to me this evening.
I was out for a few drinks with an associate and his wife (who suffered through an evening of nerdvana as we discussed data quality and Dr Who). Nothing too disturbing there.
Â However, at one point in the night I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror of the bar we were in. What I saw was a round and smiling head perched atop a suit, a shirt and tie and a v-neck jumper. But what pushed my mental gears into over-drive was the tell-tale clip of a Parker pen in my suit jacket pocket.
All men fear that one day they will turn into their fathers. I seem to have bypassed that by turning into my grandfather.
Â And, much like Marcel Proust’s madeleine cakes, it was the little detail of the Parker pen that gave me that “oh shit” moment.
For all that he gave me, and all that I should have taken while I had the chance, I thank my parental grandfather.
For the rest… I thank god thatÂ I only inherited a genetic dress code from my paternal side, and that my love of music and playing music I can still share with my maternal grandfather.
Have any of you dear readers had similar moments of “o jaysus I’ve turned into… “?