Frightfully Nice....

O Dear.

The other day I ran into some lovely folk. Godly Christians who are immersed in education and youth work, and with all the best and worthiest of motives, too. Nicer people you could not want to meet. I know I overwork that little word, have done for years; chap at college declared me to be the only person he knew who was able to enunciate a ‘14 syllable nice’, and he was not far wrong. But really nice people. And I must live in dread of offending them. Indeed, sometimes I seek out the company of not quite such nice people down the pub (not, of course, that there are no nice people to be found there as well !) but I seek out the not quite so nice, for in their company it is less likely that an unguarded word will mortally offend. It was a relief when the meeting ended and I could slip away home.

Why? Well, it happens often if you pursue unconventional thinking in religious circles, and it gets worse as you grow older, for with advancing age it seems there comes to be an aura of stability and conformity about one in the eyes of younger beholders. So much so that if you say something unexpected, they first blink and rub their eyes, and then ask again to be sure of what they think they can’t possibly have heard from this old buffer.

Finally convinced that they heard aright, they commence kindly to find excuses for one. Doubtless he hath the palsy, or mayhap waking suddenly from a nap such as the elderly need, he hath mistaken the conversation, like a bishop chairing an archdeacons’ meeting, awakening suddenly and abruptly calling a propos of nothing for the matter (whatever) to be decided forthwith.... Or perhaps, they mutter sadly, you really are 'past it' after all, and it is true what folk say....

The one thing many younger (and yes, reeally nice) folk find it terribly hard to accept these days - and I do believe this is worse now than once it was, in the days when age was acknowledged with a tiny measure of respect - is that anyone born before 1950 might actually be not only (a) compos mentis but also (b) aware of what they are saying and mean it. I suppose one should add (c) might also be right. This is particularly so if the speaker does not possess, and wear on their sleeve, at least a handful of degrees from the places which pass these days for universities; well, I say five, but that is only exaggeration for effect. The ubiquitous MBA and a single common or garden multiple choice doctorate would serve.

Say something not merely unexpected, but actually contrary to their prevailing wisdom, and they will at once have out their mobiles, to arrange immediate medical aid and a place in the nearest hospital for ancient madmen like Galileo. Like the sweet folk at the Samaritans, who, if you have the misfortune accidentally to reach them on the electric telephone, will go to any lengths, rather than believe you mean what you say, and you do not want to talk to them. Nicely, of course.

Now, I was going to tell you why I feared upsetting my too-kind friends. And No. I haven’t forgotten that. Or what it was I had in mind. But I am learning more about these Blog things. It will just have to wait for another time. And you will have to learn the patience of advancing age, like me.