Week one of being a mature student back at university, and I’m getting into the swing of things. I guess it’s odd for the senior lecturers looking at someone their own age in the front row (always) of the class. Inside my head, I’m around 25. On the outside? Maybe a little older.
I got a birthday card for my daughter, who will turn 19 tomorrow. (She finds this a terribly depressing thought.) The quote on the front was by George Burns. “Young. Old. Just words.”
Having spent all day in lectures being aware of being the oldest in the class, I attended a meeting last night for local residents who are concerned about the amount of traffic zipping through the village at high speed. I shall be standing out in the rain tomorrow counting cars as part of a data collection exercise. Chatting to one of the ladies present about my return to studying, she said “Oh yes, better to do that while you’re still young”.
In the space of an hour I had gone from old to young. Just words. And besides, old is always ten years older than you are at any time.