Fast Fiction: Good Old Days
…It was the first time Flexen and I had met in thirty years. Now our wives joined us and I ordered more drinks.
'You must have a lot to talk about, you two,' said my wife.
'Yes, that's true,' I lied, wondering what the hell I was going to say to him, or he to me, for the next few hours…
Richard Mallinson tells of a chap who has no desire to go voyaging into the past.
'Cricket isn't what it used to be,' said Flexen.
'It never was,' I said, just to be awkward.
'And the way they teach history nowadays, it's perfectly scandalous ... Do you mind if I smoke?' He took out his pipe and pouch.
'Ah, so you haven't kicked the old habit yet?'
He ignored that. 'Do you feel that you're being left behind?' he asked.
'Well,' I retorted, 'if you mean being out of touch with today's scene, certainly not. I'm up to date on politics, books, sport and even a bit of pop music'
He puffed some smoke in my direction. 'What a load of bumkum,' he said.
'Yes, you're probably right,' I conceded.
'What I meant was are you left behind by all this modern technology?'
'Ah, that,' I said.
*
It was the first time Flexen and I had met in thirty years. Now our wives joined us and I ordered more drinks.
'You must have a lot to talk about, you two,' said my wife.
'Yes, that's true,' I lied, wondering what the hell I was going to say to him, or he to me, for the next few hours.
'Well, while you two carry on talking about the good old days,' resumed my wife, 'Cynthia and I will go and take a look round the -'
'No, no,' I cut in, 'you don't have to do that. .. stay, have another drink.'
'Nonsense,' said my wife, 'you don't need an audience, do you?' - and off they went at a brisk pace towards the shops.
'By the way,' said Flexen, 'do you remember. . . ?' And he talked at length about an outing to Stonehenge we'd organised in our teaching days.
By the time he'd finished I was ready for my third or perhaps fourth brandy.
'And what the hell did you mean by "the good old days'"? I asked my wife later.
