Getting old/Time-travel.

I went to a coffee shop this week to try and get some writing done. I came away with just twelve lines of book 2; a complete dislike of teenagers, and the want to travel back in time.

I sat myself out of the way, in the corner, trying to get down to some book writing, and four teenagers came and inflicted themselves on me. Now I’ll admit that it is probably a sign of my age rather than anything else, but they came across as being selfish; loud, rude, annoying, and – above all else – dim. Their conversation was inane, completely put me off what I was trying to do, and I feared that I’d “become dumb through osmosis.” They were idiots. Worse still, most of the time I didn’t know what they were talking about. “Palm, face.” Not a clue. Everything was either “amazing,” or “fail,” but never anything in between. At first I spent my time marvelling at the depth of their apparent lack of intellect, then I started to think that maybe I was being a little unfair on them, and then I wished for a time-machine to go back to when I was their age.

I am a firm believer in ‘whatever happened, happened,’ and that whatever has happened to me in the past has made me the person that I am today. I wish that I had more money, that I’d paid more attention at school, that I’d applied myself more at work, that I had or hadn’t… whatever. But would I go back and change any of those things and risk ruining, or losing, the friendships/relationships that I have now? Not on your nelly. (You do have a nelly, don’t you?) But after having sat next to those imbeciles, I really want to go back and make sure that I didn’t act like that.

As yet I have never been given advice by a mysterious stranger, wearing an Obi-Wan Kenobi cloak, that kind of looks a bit like me but old. Which can only mean one of two things; I was never quite as stupid as the teenagers in the coffee shop, or that my plans to build a time-machine will amount to nothing…

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