I’m walking through the park with my eight year old son. He’s asking lots of questions at the moment. The main thrust of all this is that he can’t believe how old how I am.
“Dad – in your days did you ride those funny bikes?”
“What do you mean by funny bikes?”
“Those ones with the big wheel at the front and the little wheel at the back.”
“Ah, Penny Farthings.”
“Yes!”
“Those are from the Victorian era.”
“When things were black and white.”
“Well, the photos were black and white. But I wasn’t brought up in the Victorian era. That was over 100 years ago. I was a kid in the 1960s and 1970s.”
“Oh. But it was black and white then, wasn’t it?”
“Not really, no.”
“So did you have a colour TV?”
“Er, no. It was black and white.”
He goes quiet and looks at me. He’s thinking… “My poor dad is so very very old.”